#cloud-muffled starlight!

[thecrenellations]

there are SO many passages that highlight the spectrum of emotions and tones in the Lymond Chronicles, but one of them is certainly the end of Ch. 4 of Pawn in Frankincense.

We’ve got “however much I try, don’t let me turn you against me” and then the gorgeously-written horror of finding Oonagh. And sandwiched between them is Jerott saying “see you later” to Francis right after agreeing he’s going to be momentarily murdered…

… and then walking into a wall! Beautiful.

[sun-kissy]

starlight | s.b.

tw: sh

sh comfort, sirius black x reader

You feel the blood rush to your head, see the thick red liquid trickling down your arm, taste the salty tears on your cheeks. Your back aches from pressing against the wall, slumped down on the floor of the bathroom.

You choke back a sob as you press the blade to your wrist, wincing as the bright red droplets pool within the white line. Just one more. Your brain screams at you to hurt yourself again. One last one. The voices in your head intensify as you slice your skin, again and again.

This was your fault. You deserved this. Failing on a charms test - how could you be so stupid? You had studied for hours in a row, and still managed to fail. You stupid girl. You internally curse yourself, pressing a hand to your mouth to muffle your sobs.

Your head starts to feel fuzzy from the blood loss, the red liquid dripping from your hand like water from a faucet. Black spots cloud your vision as your eyelids droop, head lolling onto your shoulder. Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door and your eyes snap open in panic. "Y/n, love, are you in there?" Sirius' voice blares through the haze in your head like starlight.

"Uh-" you scramble to stuff the blade into your pocket, grabbing the toilet roll from the sink. "Yeah, I'm in here. I'm okay!" your voice turns unnaturally high-pitched. You start to wrap the toilet paper around your arm, wiping your face on your sleeve. "Are you sure you're alright?" he probes. "I-uh-" a sob escapes you as your nails graze a scar, and you hear the sucking in of a breath on the other side of the door.

"Y/n, I'm coming in." Sirius says firmly as the knob turns. The door creaks as he steps in, and you choke out a sob and hurriedly pull your sleeves down in an attempt to shield him from your mess. It didn't work. You see the panic flashing in his eyes as they widen, and he rushes towards you, grabbing your bloodied wrists.

You wince and he loosens his grip. "Sorry." he says quietly. "Can I - can I see?" you gulp down the lump in your throat and nod, glancing away with tears rolling down your cheeks. Sirius carefully rolls back your sleeves, his breath hitching as his eyes land on the white scars lining your arms. The blood continues to cruelly drip down your wrist, mocking you. You brace yourself for the screams and taunts that will spurt from his mouth. But they never come.

"Y/n. Look at me." he says, his voice cracking. You suck in a deep breath as you feel his fingers on your chin, lifting your head till your eyes meet. His eyes are round and glassy, tears threatening to spill. The look on his face breaks your heart in two, and you let out a wrangled cry of defeat. A tear slips down his face as he immediately pulls you into his embrace. "You're okay. You're okay." he croaks out as you melt into the hug, crying into his sweater.

The both of you stay there for what feels like forever, Sirius' hands rubbing circles on your back while you grip him so tightly as though he would be taken from you if you didn't. He presses gentle kisses to the crown of your head while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. You feel his own tears on your hair, his heartache seeping through your skin.

Your sobs finally quieten and Sirius pulls back slowly, holding you at arm's length. He cups your face, wiping away the tears. "My lovely girl. Why didn't you say anything before?" he whispers. You sniffle. "I'm sorry. It was- it was hard," you mumble, glancing away. He shakes his head and smiles gently. "Nothing to apologise for, love. I just wish you had told me, so I could carry some of your pain for you.”

"But they're my problems. Not yours. You shouldn't have to burden yourself for me," you murmur, looking at him guiltily. He gently presses a finger to your mouth. "None of that. If my girl is hurting, it's my job to shelter you from that pain, okay? Please just... just tell me what's wrong, and I swear I'll try to make it better. I'll do anything it it meant you didn't harm yourself," he says firmly, his eyes swirling with so much guilt, hurt and love.

You nod slowly. "Okay, my sweet girl?" he asks softly, thumb grazing over your cheek. "Okay,” you reply quietly, mustering a weak smile. He smiles softly in response and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Good girl. Now let's get you cleaned up while you tell me what's been going on in that pretty little head of yours, huh?" he asks softly, lacing your fingers together. You nod meekly as he pulls you into another bone-crushing hug, so full of affection that you feel your pain start to dwindle.

"I hope you know I love you. And I'm sorry that things have been hard, but I'm here now. You're safe with me." he whispers, raking his fingers through your hair. You smile weakly, squeezing him tighter. "I know,” you mumble fondly, your voice overflowing with gratitude. He starts to grin, his usual flirtatious nature coming back to him. "And I also hope you know that once I'm done cleaning you up, I'm gonna cuddle you and kiss you stupid." A giggle slips out of you. “I'd like that very much."

"Cuddles fix everything, just trust me," Sirius grins, pecking your cheek. You smile fondly, knowing full well that you could trust his starlight to shield you from the storm in your head.

[ohwhataniight]

(Belated) Calm - @calaisreno

I've been craving to participate in the May Prompts thing but life has been absolutely hectic, so I decided to choose one prompt and write something instead of attempting to fill them everyday. Hope that's okay. I'm so grateful for everyone who has been gifting their gems to this beautiful fandom. The past week has been incredible, reading all your stunning works!

Calm - Andante, andante

It finally happens on their holiday. John has practically dragged Sherlock to the seaside with a plan to supervise his sleep schedule and meal intake, uninterrupted from cases or landladies for a long weekend. John had expected Sherlock to spend the biggest part of their trip sulking, but instead he spends the first day running around Rosie who’s learning to walk and keeps stumbling on the unforgiving sand. So far he has airplane-fed her three meals in a way that makes the process looks deceivingly effortless, and he has even kneeled by her side barefoot, in his white linen shirt end rolled-up trousers, and built ornate sand castles for her - he has even let her indulge in the scandalous pleasure of sitting flat on her diapered bum on them right after he’s finished, shrieking while reducing his elaborate creations into ruins. Hell, he even smiled and clapped throughout.

John has watched the two of them fondly through the day and interrupted them only for sunscreen and hydration breaks which, if he’s entirely honest with himself, proved to be entirely unnecessary. Sherlock is a diligent caretaker, and John’s cheeks are starting to hurt from all that smiling he can’t help but allow on his face.

It’s currently dark and they’re walking on the beach side by side, their feet leaving four parallel lines of marks on the sand. Rosie is sleeping soundly in her baby carrier that’s strapped on Sherlock’s chest, and John can’t help but feel just a tiny bit jealous of his daughter, rested peacefully like that in Sherlock’s arms, probably calmed by the sound of his heartbeat. The beach is empty aside from a group of Gen-Zers sitting far away around a bonfire, their laughter and songs distant and mingling with the music coming muffled from the hotel across the street. He recognizes some tacky ballads and an alarming amount of ABBA songs, but he doesn’t really mind. The soft, salty breeze is caressing their cheeks and the stars are shining brightly on the velvet blanket of the sky that is draped above them, the horizon too dark to be able to tell it apart from the sea.

John remembers a moment from years ago, when they had been in the middle of a case and Sherlock had casually commented on the beauty of the starlight as they were walking alongside each other in the grimy alleys of London. He can’t really fathom how they have arrived to this point, walking silently on the sand, electricity hovering between them, after everything they’ve been through, both together and apart. He recalls the moments that have filled their day, the meals they’ve shared, the peekaboos they’ve entertained Rosie with, the goofiness and the attention and the care. He recalls the angles of Sherlock’s pale body as he walked into the glistening sea, the litheness of his limbs, the wet locks of dark hair plastered on his head, dripping water on his freckled clavicles.

“If she’s getting too heavy for you you can hand her to me, y’know,” he says in a lowered voice, breaking the silence that was buzzing loudly in his ears.

“Nonsense,” Sherlock whispers with a grimace that’s illuminated by the pale moonlight that bathes his face from a flattering angle. “She’ll wake up if we move her, and we all know how hard it was to get her to sleep”.

John chuckles softly. “After seeing you lulling her to sleep with Despacito of all things, knowing that it’s her favourite song, I feel the urge to apologize for all the times I’ve called you a heartless git.”

“If you look in the past without the rose-tinted glasses that have clouded your vision today, John, I’ve been a heartless git.”

John stops walking, and Sherlock does too after a couple of steps, turning around and facing him. “Not anymore.”

“No,” a hint of a smile appears on the detective’s face. “Not anymore.”

Before being able to fully realize what he’s doing and stop himself from doing it, John has extended his hand and pull Sherlock’s bigger one into it. Sherlock suddenly looks breathless, flustered, and John takes the liberty of tentatively carressing the back of Sherlock’s hand, the heel, the knuckles with his thumb. “Thank you,” he mouths, himself surprised by how much he’s feeling. “For behaving. For taking care of Rosie. For... for everything.”

“Of course, John.” Sherlock squeezes his hand, then shifts their entangled fingers so that his index and middle finger are resting on John’s wrist. John feels his muscles tensing at the invasiveness - and the cliche nature - of the gesture, but then again, wasn’t it himself who took Sherlock’s hand into his own, who softly caressed the sun-kissed skin?

“Don’t,” he murmurs.

“Why?” Sherlock whispers back. Rosie is snoring softly, still rested against his chest, and John is feeling as if there is no one in the world other than them, nothing exists but their warm breaths intermingling, the calm rise and fall of the daughter-shaped bundle between them, and the flickering of falling stars above their heads.

“Because you don’t need to,” John exhales.

He can’t recall who leans in first, but their first kiss tastes of salt and the fruity rum-based cocktail they shared earlier at the beach bar, sipping with pink straws from inside a pineapple. He can finally taste Sherlock, and the sensation takes over his whole body, making his knees buckle. They soon break the kiss, breathless, given that the sleeping bundle of Rosie is standing between them. Still, everything about it feels chaste. John throws his arms around the two people he loves the most in his life, holding them close, never willing to let them go, feeling the symphony of heartbeats vibrate through their bodies. He presses his lips softly on his daughter’s forehead and Rosie shifts, only to immediately drift back to sleep, curled up in their embrace.

[violettduchess]

Hello! I saw prompts were open, and figured I'd shoot my shot, and if you don't get to it it's fine! I don't suppose you could do the prompt "late night trysts" with Ikevamp Faust? It can be fluff or spicy, up to you! Thank you so much :)

A/N: I haven't written Faust in a long time but I saw this and immediately knew what I wanted to do. Here you go @almond-lebkuchen 💜 Vielen Dank für die Anfrage!

Faust x Reader

Prompt: Late Night Trysts, an entry for my and @lorei-writes Sunshine and Starlight CC; I went with spicy for this one.

WC: 750

It’s not a night anyone should be out. The blackened clouds tremble as they hurl piercing drops of cold water down onto the earth, battering the streets and buildings. Thunder throttles the sky, shaking loose more rain than the town has seen in a decade. It sluices between the cobblestones and clings to rattled windowpanes. Lightning angrily cracks its blinding whip across the heavens as trees bend to the will of the furious winds. Your dark cloak billows around you, fluttering angrily against the storm as it wraps itself around your legs. A hard yank sets you free as you continue hurrying across the wet stones and up the wide, slippery steps of the church. After all, you agreed to meet him, come hell or high water.

Tonight both are here.

The inside of the church is mercifully dry and quiet, a sanctuary from the muffled howling of the summer storm outside. The gray stone walls and dark wooden pews are bathed in the pale light of hundreds of small candles, placed at various spots around the inside. Shadows flicker, stretching and shrinking with the dancing of the tiny flames. They crawl along the pews and glide down the aisles. You push back your hood and then with chilled fingers, slowly remove your rain-sodden cloak. Your eyes need a moment to adjust to the dim light and your body stills as you appreciate the warmth that is slowly combating the cold on your skin. Your cloak drips as you step cautiously away from the doorway and step further into the building, leaving a dark trail of drops in your wake.

“Johann?”

How small your voice seems in comparison to the orchestra of sound raging outside.

When he steps out of the shadows, you can’t help but gasp. He’s like an apparition come alive, a shadow that has willed itself into flesh and blood. His green eyes burn even now, brighter than the small army of flickering golden flames. Wordlessly, he reaches out, taking your heavy cloak and fastidiously hangs it across one of the pews. You watch his hands as they spread out the damp material, the long fingers as they smooth out every crease. Something hot ignites inside you at the memory of those fingertips trailing ribbons of heat across your bare body.

As if he is able to read your sinful thoughts, he looks up and smiles slowly. “Liebling,” he murmurs in a voice smooth as honeyed wine, “You must forgive me. Had I known the weather would be this…..vicious, I would not have asked you to meet me.” 

There is no looking away from the gravity of his gaze, the celestial pull of those poison-green eyes. Your heart beats a wild rhythm in your chest, aching with longing, drumming with anticipation. 

“I would brave any weather, Johann, if it meant I could see you–”

Those words thunder in his ears and send an instant blitz of hunger through his veins. You’re still talking even as he moves towards you, his priestly robes swaying with the motion. He draws you to him, finally, finally, and swallows your words, drinking them down like the sweetest ambrosia. His kiss is crushing, his mouth demanding. You welcome it, sliding your arms around his neck as you yield to him, your body curving into his, softening to his demands. You never expected to fall for this man, this complicated being with his brilliant mind and ravenous appetite. 

Yet here you are, locked in his arms, trapped, stumbling your way across the aisle to one of the pews, your hand pushing through the dark sky of his hair. He sits, pulling you onto his lap, your skirt hiked up around your thighs. 

His hands are possessed, roaming impatiently over every bit of exposed skin. 

His hands are possessive, fingers digging into your flesh like a predator subduing its prey.

You revel in the power of his grip, the devotion of his tongue as it meets yours again and again. Outside, the night swells with the apex of the storm, the dark summer sky flashing pure white.

Inside the stone church, Faust growls your name....

....as you tug at his robes. 

....as he pushes you onto the pew, skirt shoved out of the way, and sinks to his knees before you. 

....as his sharp fangs bite into the soft skin of your thigh and his strong hands hold you in place.

....as the storm within suddenly howls, louder and more ferocious than anything happening outside.

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage

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@starlitmanor-network @sh0jun @fang-and-feather @bubblexly

[searsage]

She wasn't afraid, at least not for what would come, but what would be left behind..

A single human could not stand against the horrors of the night and hope for a miracle, yet she was content with her decision to stay with her vulnerable architect, decidedly not acknowledging what would come with dawn.

Robin would rather he be optimistic but she could not ignore the odds against her..

Her mind was a panicked mess of thoughts, on her surroundings, her worries, regrets…

Every snapped twig, fallen leaf, whispering breeze sounded so obnoxiously loud just moments ago..

What would Al-an wake to find..?

The anxious chittering around her has ceased..

Her remains scattered accross the bank?! Would he blame himself when it was her choice alone..?

Why was it so quiet..?

Of course her architect would, Al-an would never forgive himself.

A cancerous stain on an existence ungoverned by time, a weed nestled inbetween the joints of an immortal engine, how long would he carry her?

Her memory, her loss, her grief..!?

Suddenly an odd shiver shot up the resercher's spine, goosebumps rapidly rising on her shoulders as she felt a soft but unnatural breeze ghost against the back of her neck, the researcher's eyes narrowed, the hilt on the blade tightening in numb fingers, In a moment of numb resolve Robin turns around to face the adversary behind her…

It's not the night beast she expected it to be, no, the massive creature before her was so much worse..

It was so close to her, Robin could feel the heat radiating off it's slick black skin, and yet it stood motionless, as still as stone she may have walked by it without notice had it not been right up behind her, a massive splotch of vantablack against the backdrop of a dim and dreary forest.

Robin's heart thumps in her chest so hard it actually hurts as she stares back frozen in place, the way it's long neck bent reminded her of a viper poised to strike, but the dramatic bend of its neck almost seemed as if the massive creature's head was upside down..

It was impossible to make out its true visage when it's black skin seemed to swallow the scant rays of starlight escaping through rain filled clouds..

The air is so heavy, the weight of apprehension felt crippling but Robin remained still, her gaze unwavering, unwilling to give it an opening to strike, it would be foolish to show weakness, any wrong move could result in her death and that wasn't something she was keen on Al-an waking up too.

This stand off seems to stretch on for eternity, at least until the sound of a twig snapping shatters the tense silence and against her better judgement, Robin's eyes quickly cut to the side to see the familiar shape of a large night beast creeping up a tree not far off, it's pale glowing eyes watched her with intrigue but equally seemed to think better then confront the lone human in the presence of a much larger adversary…

A muffled noise has the resercher's head snapping back to the creature before her only to stiffen, it had shifted closer.

At her hip her PDA reiterates it's warning, a warning long too late.

"Detecting leviathan class lifeform in this region, proceed with caution. Error. Further system data required."

[glow-autumz]

Siren | Pirate

(heres some silly writing for ya)

Ripples of water curl and slither like silk around her shoulders in the Moonlight. The pirate lets this alluring siren guide him closer into the deathly waters, closer to her. His eyes could never leave her unfocused daze even as he tips dangerously over the lifeboat, even as droplets of the sea dampen his fur. Even when that look on her face alone threatens to yank him into unforgiving depths, where he'd drown and thrash helplessly against that beautiful form of hers as she'd devour him to her heart's content.

Moon's song floats weightlessly around the foggy seaside, tickling his ears and though it cannot work on him, it's just as hauntingly entrancing. Rocket watches her smugly, pretending to be bewitched, molted flames taunting behind those ruby eyes of his. This seems to anger the once mermaid now siren, her tail taking a break from the seductive patterns to flick in annoyance against the ripples of water behind her. Moon's eyes darting to his lips when it curls into a grin inches from hers.

Her fingers are intertwining against the patches of fur on his face when Rocket daringly grasps her damp cheek, ignoring her sharp hisses of protest, the siren song is suddenly pulled to a close. It's silent for a moment. There's nothing but the sounds of gentle waves splashing against the lifeboat and the shallow ringing in the siren's own ears as heated breaths fill the space between them. The Pirate knows he has her full attention when her tail almost goes completely still, Moon's eyes now entranced by his own as her hair curls around her, enticingly, like watery clouds of pure starlight.

Unable to bear with the watery tension anymore, Rocket smashes his lips onto hers, his hands tangling into the nest of her hair and gripping her face closer into the feverish kiss. Her muffled snarl dies on the tip of her tongue while he takes her lips hard, seawater trailing down her waist like pearls as she pulls herself up to deepen the kiss.

"Love." Rocket murmurs, the sound sending shivers down the siren's back. She ignores his call, hoisting herself higher against the small life boat to kiss him deeper, droplets of water splattering onto wood by his feet. Rocket can't help but chuckle at her sudden and dangerous show of force, sliding his tongue into her mouth as if it belonged there. When he feels her melt against him the smirk deepens, a sharp fang poking from the edge of his lips.

"Love" He repeats when his fingers reach the helm of the dagger behind him, his claws hovering just over it. "Mmmm.." Moon hums in response, lost in the sea of the pirate's kisses. Hot puffs of air mingle between them when he chuckles darkly and draws the blade. Moon's eyes widen, suddenly snapping out of the scum of the pirate's spell. Her tail flicks in aggression but he stops her attempts at any attacks, only calmly pressing the dagger closer to her throat, close enough to spill blood.

Moon chooses to hiss and snarl at Rocket instead, hiding the fear and hurt from her face with all the strength she can muster. "Ah ah ah fishy." Rocket taunts, licking the leftover taste of her from his lips. Moon almost slips into the watery realm but his strong grip to her arm keeps her body close. "Ya tried to use em siren charms but there's one thing ya missed fish-tail." Rocket grins deviously. If Moon wasn't so distracted by the dagger at her throat she would've surely swooned from that scummy glint in his eye. "Ya swally charms don't work on me."

-

(so I decided to write something that goes along with a piece I haven't quite finished yet and I really wanted to share it here. Hope you enjoy my silly willy lil' story.)

Taglist♡: @aliasrocket @pretty-chips @honeypleasesugar @thirteens-lucky-tardis @funkydancingdinosaur @evolvingchaoswitch @rockiday4life @raccoonfallsharder @bakaotakulife @cleo-is-babygirl

[kudzuoath]

Little Shards of Starlight

Temperance is the only member of the camp without a tent. A storm has Gale offering to share. Something that leads to the resident paladin sharing a part of her past.

--

Thunder screamed, and lightning cracked the sky above in two. It was all the warning any of them got before the rains came. Hard and fast enough the drops stung exposed skin.

So of course the party scattered like cats for their respective tents.

“Chk, It is only a little water. Are your people so weak that this is all it takes to stop them in their tracks?”

Well, except for Lae’zel.

“Oh do remain out there in all your armor, gith,” called Shadowheart from her tent. “I imagine your kind make excellent lighting rods –”

“Oi!” came a voice from within a faintly glowing newly formed cloud of steam. “No one is getting struck by lightning on my watch! Wait not my tent there’s no room –”

Something was said about ‘boiling the toad’ but that was none of Gale’s business. So long as none of them actually ended up electrocuted, well, that was about as good an end result as you could hope for.

And besides, even if he had wanted to listen in, another crash of thunder drowned everything else out.

First to run for his tent, Gale was nonetheless last to actually make it even with Lae’zel’s commentary.

Because he realized midstride that Temperance didn’t have one. (Should I offer – ?) So he turned around and took her by the hand before he could think himself in circles at the gesture. They both fled, soaked to the skin and sliding through what was rapidly becoming mud until they made it. Only for Temperance to trip over the haphazard pile of books he hadn’t gotten around to organizing yet, and take him and his telescope down with her.

The telescope in question smacked into Temperance’s skull mere seconds before the paladin’s elbow introduced itself to one of his lungs. “Gah!”

Going well, he thought. Perhaps next you can bludgeon her with your staff.

Temperance swore. Something else – the tower of books? – rained down on them. By the time the thuds ceased, they were both clutching something, and Temperance was half sprawled atop him. He heard a muffled something like ‘bloody tail’ and found himself grateful to be harassed by an errant elbow and not, say, her horns.

“Well,” he wheezed once he was able to draw breath. “That might have gone better.”

Temperance turned her head so she could see his face, and there was something devastatingly charming about the way her hair stuck to her skin in damp navy curls, almost mirroring the dark flames along her jawline. A subtle catlike smile curled at the corners of her mouth. His chest ached at the sight.

“Does this count as having a trapped tent?” she murmured, unaware of his thoughts. “It’s not how I thought you’d use all the books we’ve been picking up.”

He laughed, that terrible pressure around his heart easing somewhat. “You would be astounded to hear all the myriad ways a Wizard can use a book in a trap. As a tripwire is perhaps the most unconventional of them.”

Temperance rolled off of him, and squawked when a book apparently stabbed her in the spine. She pulled it free with an expression of suspicion – but even victimized by the thing still took a moment to set it carefully aside.

“Hm. Well, the other kind of trapped book must assume the victim is the sort to go around opening them at random.”

A snort. “Well, considering all I’ve seen of you on our mutual misadventures you would make a most excellent target. When I was at Blackstaff I had a particular tome come into my hands that turned out to lead directly to the water plane should you open to the correct sequence of pages – not what one expects from a medium best suited toward remaining dry! Though it does explain the foxing and water damage, come to think.”

Temperance leaned closer as he spoke, the curiosity he so loved sparking in her eyes. How often had he watched someone's eyes glaze over instead?

“Was it a trap? Or was that its function?” she asked.

His heart may as well have turned to goo with the way it went all warm and drippy in his chest. Like candle wax.

“Ah, you would think something so dratted inconvenient was meant to harm but in this case the second option was the truth! An elemental –”

Before he could really get started the thunder cut him off. So loud it must have been right above them. It cracked like a whole mountain was coming down. And if he hadn’t been looking, if their legs hadn’t still been touching, he might not have noticed the way Temperance reacted.

Her pupils narrowed to the thinnest of slits. And she’d flinched, then stiffened, her loose limbs going stone-like against him. He lifted his hands – but they hovered rather than reached.

“What’s wrong?”

Her throat bobbed and her eyes refocused on him. That hidden smile was long gone. Replaced by a face gone carefully blank. He hadn’t realized until this moment that it had been some time since he’d seen her this kind of expressionless.

“I… don’t like storms,” she admitted. As if it were something he’d mock her for.

Never. She could admit to a paralyzing fear of the color yellow and he would think no less of her for it. Thus far his only complaint was how she’d lied about her name when they met.

“I’m not particularly fond of spiders,” he replied. Though to be fair – who was? Other than perhaps the devout drow of the underdark. And that mad soul in the whispering depths of the well they’d descended.

Her shoulders relaxed – but only for a moment. The storm was only growing in fury, and his tent seemed very poor shelter indeed with how it screamed around them. Temperance flinched with every crash of thunder and flash of lightning. The electric purple of her eyes was nearly swallowed by the black of them.

“How can I help?”

She shook her head, mute.

He hated to see her like this. Even if what he saw was mostly the stark difference of the last few moments. From open and almost playful, to a carefully curated nothing. He watched as she sat up, back turned to him, the line of her shoulders too sharp. Save her breathing – too measured to be anything but intentional – she did not move. Just the same as she was before a fight.

Again he reached out. Her hand was right there on the rug. But his own curled away before they touched.

“I have an idea.”

Shedding books he sat up himself, lifted his hands and began to tug at the weave. Pulling on the vast, starlight threads to compose a change in the world around him. He could feel it humming in his chest, feel the orb open one eye in interest as it always seemed to when he cast a spell these days.

Go to sleep, he thought at it. Teetering on the edge of creation. Staring into the dark heart of himself and willing that cold and hollow place to stay buried, to keep its teeth sheathed. For now, it seemed the balance was still in his favor. That eye slipped closed again. The orb remained quiescent. Though no longer stable.

He should have left days ago. He should already be running for the most remote reaches of Faerun.

Gale shook his head. Ignored the awful seesaw lurch of his heart.

Not yet, he thought. Not yet.

The spell drifted from his fingertips, and settled into the fabric of his tent. And the moment it did, the world around them went silent. Oh – the tent still shook and rippled from the rain and the wind, the lighting still flared brilliantly beyond. But the thunder and the howling gusts were silent.

When he turned to look at her, Temperance was staring, tail twitching back and forth among his scattered books. Unfrozen. Good? He couldn’t read her expression. It was still blank. Had he overstepped? Perhaps he should have asked. Maybe not being able to hear the storm was worse, somehow. Like turning your back on a yawning darkness.

“It’s a modified version of the ‘silence’ spell. I discovered the particular ratios of that one ages ago when I was just a lad – my mother was always trying to get me to stop experimenting and go to sleep – possibly so she might have a moment’s peace – so naturally the perfect solution was to ensure no one could hear what I was getting up to. It went perfectly well until the time I found myself face to face with a rather peeved pixie – well. The point is, I needed the walls silent, but not my room, of course, due to the verbal components of a spell –”

Temperance was smiling again, one eyebrow raised. “A tressym, a magma mephit, and a pixie?”

He laughed, relieved. “Two out of three remaining friends is not such a terrible track record, all things considered.”

“I imagine your parents wished they’d simply given in and gotten you that kitten,” she teased. And then it was Temperance who reached out. Just as she had the first time, when he’d told her of his condition. Though this time it seemed more deliberate. Not instinct. She took his hands. “Thank you.”

“Pish,” he blurted. “It was the least I could do, truly.”

Her lips twitched, and her nostrils flared. “Nevertheless.”

Mirth faded. She scooted a little closer to him. He might have worried to see her face so somber, but he’d learned it was the expressionless mask that ought to bother him.

“You’ve… been quite vulnerable with me. Shared things… shared things that cannot have been easy. I want to return the favor. Though… I suppose it’s not much of one.”

Curiosity burned. Temperance so rarely offered pieces of her past to any of them.

He squeezed her hands. “Anything you’re willing to share. I do know how to listen, surprising as that might be to hear.”

“Can I show you instead? I don’t… I don’t know if I can really find the right words. Explain why it’s storms, of all things, that… unsettle me.”

The tadpole made itself known. Squirming behind his eye and making his ears ring and whine. The pain was both sharp like broken glass, and dull, like dolorous bells inside his skull. Both of them winced in unison.

“Show me,” he said. “The carnivorous wards we’re looking after until such time as they decide to fly the coop, so to speak, have already woken. It suits us to use what we can of them, before they use what they will of us.”

With a nod, Temperance reached out along the mental link they usually allowed to sleep undisturbed between them. And he followed the thread of it backwards. Into her mind.

Into another storm.

The cart with its display of caged birds that had so distracted him is being packed away. As if it never existed. Strangers scurry hither and yon like giants. None of them paying him any mind unless he’s unlucky enough to be underfoot. The rain is only a patter now. Ice cold and sliding down the back of his shirt. But there’s a howling sound coming from the harbor, and the black clouds above the market are filled with bright purple flickers.

“Get inside kid!” A stranger shouts, throwing a tarp over his vast collection of water clocks for sale. “Or at least get your skinny ass back to the hells!”

Frantic, he takes off at a half run in the direction he’d last seen his mother. She’d been holding his hand loosely. But at some point – when he’d crouched down to look at the caged swan? – her calloused fingers had slipped from his.

She should have been right behind him. Maybe a few feet away, at the stall where a gnome was selling jeweled brooches. But then there’d been a crack of thunder and the people had started to retreat and his mother was simply gone. As if the clouds had reached down and swallowed her.

He shouts himself hoarse, arms folded around himself as the rain starts coming down hard enough to hurt. The wind picks up, and the water seems to cut into him no matter which way he turns. Somehow he’s found himself in streets all the darker. Mostly mud. He’s hopelessly lost. Alone in Neverwinter. Alone in a city he’d only seen for the very first time today.

Surely, he’s going to be found.

Surely someone will help him.

But then the streets begin to flood, and he has to run. Chilled to the bone. Exhausted.

He runs, and runs, and runs. Until the buildings have dropped away and he’s at the harbor. Watching the water rise like a big, black mouth. Swallowing and spitting out the docks as it is whipped up into a frenzy.

And finally! Finally, a set of weathered old hands lifts him up.

He clings to the stranger, sobbing. They smell like stale beer and salt and fish.

But they take him away from the harbor and into a tavern so old the floorboards are soft and bowed. But there is a fire. And the storm is hushed. And he simply cannot keep his eyes open after spending all afternoon and nearly half the night in a terror of confusion –

Gale fell back into himself abruptly as the memory ended. His body feels too big. Too male. And there was a distinct disconnect at the base of his spine, where a tail has never been. Something similar with how much lighter his head feels, even though Temperance’s horns had barely grown in at the time of her remembrance.

“Hells,” he said. Shaking himself. It did not help that, thanks to the present storm – he was rather damp still. “No wonder you don’t like them. What did your mother say? When she found you?”

Temperance had her hand to her forehead, wincing slightly. But at his question she looked up, brows pulled together. She opened her mouth. Closed it. And he knew immediately that he’d asked the wrong question. Had the woman been angry at her daughter? Surely not. And yet Temperance’s reaction was… odd.

“She – I – well.” Temperance scrubbed at her face. Hid it. “She didn’t find me, Gale.”

His brain ground to a halt. “What?”

“I never saw her again after that,” Temperance said. She dropped her hands, and looked at him with feigned calm. “I imagine she continued on to Baldur’s Gate without me, to her wedding.”

That grinding only got worse. How could – who would – “She left you?”

“Or she was murdered,” she said. “Though I never heard anything about her body being found. For… a long time… I thought it was an accident. Or my fault. I let go of her hand, you see.”

“That is the most absurd, callous –”

“I was six,” she deadpanned. “Children are often absurd.”

He swallowed invectives. And forced the rising tide of outrage down. His chest began to burn regardless of his intentions. The orb flexed its claws. Testing the cage of his ribs. So Gale took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Counted to ten. There would be no magical item strong enough to temper him now if he let the beast around his heart out. And Temperance deserved better than an abrupt end for sharing something so personal with him.

“Forgive me. I simply cannot comprehend the sort of – of – pestilent person who would abandon their child like that. I know it must happen but – six?”

Her eyes slid away from his. But he’d caught the bright flare of anger in them all the same.

“I stayed with Kell in the tavern for a week,” she said. “Then his coin ran out and the owner of the tavern kicked him out. And me along with. He tried. But he was too in his cups to be much help after a while. I took care of myself. And some smaller kids, when they needed it. Before I went to live at the Temple.”

So many things made sense now. In particular, how she’d interacted with Mol. With that little tiefling boy and his ‘lucky’ ring.

This time when Gale reached out he did not hesitate. Their hands linked. He squeezed them lightly. Trying to convey encouragement. Care.

Something that had her turning her head to look at him. To his surprise, she hadn’t gone blank again. Rather, seemed to be chewing on the inside of her lip. As if she wasn’t sure what to say now either.

“He’s the one you were talking about when you asked if I was addicted to Magic,” he said at last.

A nod. “He got mean. Mean enough that he kept trying to quit. Never managed to lay a hand on me, before you ask. But others did. I wasn’t a very good thief in the beginning.”

For all the trouble he’d caused as a child – and even more recently, as an adult – he’d never worried that his mother might simply leave him behind at the market one day like an ill favored hat. Worried he might let her down, that his vast potential was merely that, potential? Of course. But he’d always known even in his worst moments that he would have his mother and his tressym. Even if he couldn’t bear to let the former get too close these days.

Her hands flexed in his. But not as if she wanted to let go. So he kept holding them. Felt his heart beating in his fingers.

“Thank you for sharing this with me. I find myself with little to say more than that. I am… grateful that you have trusted me enough to tell me your fears at all, let alone let me into your mind that I might understand them. You deserved a good deal better than what befell you, Temperance. You are simply put, one of the better people I have ever known.”

That made her draw back. Only a little. Her hands began to slip out of his. But then they tightened instead. She let out a harsh breath, and bowed her head. “I’m still getting used to you… meaning things. You speak so eloquently, I’m always looking for the lie. But there never is one.”

“Unlike some others I could name, I am a veritable fount of sincerity, dear Paladin.”

“You can say Astarion.”

“Perish the thought. I would never disparage one of your friends.”

An eyebrow raised. But she was smiling, and he counted that as a win. “Of course not. You know he tried to tell me he admired me the other night.” She snorted. “Maybe I might have accepted it. But he did it in that voice – you know the one –”

“Oh yes,” Gale agreed, a note of exhaustion entering his voice. “I know exactly the one.”

“He’s used it on all of us,” she said. “I think we’ve all caught on that he’s the cat amongst the mice.”

“Oh? Are we all mice then?”

When had she begun to lean in again? Or had that been him? Her hands felt so warm in his.

“Perhaps not mice,” she conceded. “In fact. I’d say several others are cats too. Such as Shadowheart. Karlach would be a dog, though.”

“What about myself?”

Her smile had gone almost sly. “Why, clearly a tressym. You’re far too magical to be merely feline. Besides, from all you’ve said about Tara the two of you ought to match.”

“Then you must be a swan,” he said. “As fierce as they are lovely. I can think of few things that would suit you better.”

“Than a goose with a good reputation? I’ve met swans. They’re terrible bastard birds.”

Gale shook his head, still smiling. Though his face was burning. Just a little. “When I call you a swan I cannot help but think of their grace and beauty. Their protective fury. I’ve seen you charge into the frey for a child at least twice now. Both times the sight filled me with awe. I imagine only the children in question were more struck by the sight of you.”

This time one of her hands did pull away. To cover her still smiling face. Which had gone bright red. “Thank you.”

“Shall I go on?” he teased.

“Please don’t.”

She dropped her hand and had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye now. They were close enough he could feel her breath on his face. And she seemed to have noticed at the same moment he did. But rather than stiffen and startle away from him as she had before… she stilled. Her eyes flicked to his lips, and back.

He wanted to. Good gods he wanted to. So fiercely it made his chest burn. And he knew she wanted to kiss him. Wanted to be kissed. The memory of the one she’d imagined during his magic lesson lingered in the forefront of his mind.

“As my lady commands,” he said. Voice a near whisper.

Temperance’s free hand settled on the side of his face. Light as a feather. As if she expected him to run from her.

This is a bad idea, said a voice in the back of his head that sounded very much like Tara.

He’d learned the hard way what ignoring that voice could do. He set his hand over hers. Laced their fingers together. And drew it away. Her eyes shuttered. A flash of hurt.

“I can’t,” he said. “Please understand. I wish to. More than you might think. But… the orb is no longer stable. And even before –”

She sighed. It seemed to come from very deep inside of her. “I understand.”

“Please do,” he all but begged. “If I could –”

A sad little smile. “I believe you.”

She pulled back. But slowly. And she left the one hand in his.

“Tell me about that book that led to the water plane? Did you manage to extract an elemental?”

His heart staggered in his throat. Choking him with a hundred regrets he could never voice. A thousand unsung screams about how bloody unfair it was that he was meeting this woman now, now that he was so far past saving it was laughable.

And then, he pulled himself together. He had only himself to blame.

“It’s funny you should mention water elementals,” he said. His voice cracked. But he cleared his throat and pressed onwards. “They happened to be the first thing through once the sequence was completed – the boy’s dormitory was flooded by the time I managed to convince the fellow to go home. I developed something of a reputation as you might expect…”

Afternoon passed into evening with more of the same. More than once he had her laughing. And more than once she made his mouth go dry and that damned thing under his skin stir and burn him. Made him regret that he could not kiss her.

In another life, he promised himself.

For now, he would hoard these moments like the proverbial dragon. Pull them out to look at when the days ahead grew too dark. Like little shards of starlight.

[iamvegorott]

Wait also 20 and 24 from fluff for MadMare!

20. "Wait! don't pull away...not yet." 24. "You own my heart."

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“Run!” Blank said with a happy squeal before taking off, holding Mad’s hand to make him follow. Mad laughed and covered his head as he and Blank got pelted with snowballs thrown by Phantom, Jackie, Robbie, and Anti. 

“We got you!” Chase said with the biggest smile when Mad and Blank reached their snow fort. He and Marvin started throwing snowballs back, some glowing with a light green aura and showing that Marvin was using magic to help with his aim. 

“Cheater!” Phantom called, a laugh in his voice as he used his own magic to make the snowballs he threw glow red. 

“Do you want to help me make snowballs, Blank?” Mad asked, gathering snow to make more ammunition. 

“Yeah!” Blank’s face went serious as he focused on the task at hand, the tip of his tongue sticking out as he made snowball after snowball. 

“I give it five more minutes until they realize they’re cold,” Dark commented from the patio he and Mare sat at. They were bundled up with steaming mugs on the table that sat between them. Dark had some tea while Mare had some coffee. 

“I give it two, look at Robbie’s nose.” Mare gestured with his mug as he picked it up. “Anti’s going to notice that soon and it’ll kick in.” 

“I’m shocked you’re not worried about Mad, he has the thinnest jacket out there,” Dark commented with a light tease in his voice. 

“His lips aren’t blue, so we’re doing good.” Mare shrugged and took a sip of his coffee.

“So shocking that you’ve been staring at Mad’s lips.” Dark teased some more as he took a sip of tea. 

“Like how you’ve been staring at Anti’s ass?”

“Touché.” 

“And it looks like I win as well.” Mare chuckled at the scene of Anti looking at Robbie and calling off the game. Chase jogged over to look at Robbie as well and agreed. In a blink, Anti was in front of Dark. 

“Ready to head in?” Dark asked, getting a head nod from Anti before he placed a hand on Dark’s arm and glitched them away. Mare continued watching as Blank ran over to Jackie and jumped into his arms, showing that he still wanted to play. Phantom rolled his eyes with a smile at getting puppy-dog eyes from both Jackie and Blank. He snapped his fingers and sent himself, Jackie, and Blank away in a red cloud that mixed with the green cloud Marvin created by sending himself and Chase away at the same time. 

“Hi, starlight.” Mare greeted Mad when he reached him. “You’re looking a little red.” He chuckled as he stood, offering his coffee to Mad. 

“Thank you,” Mad said as he took the mug and drank, thankful for that feeling of warmth coursing through him with each swallow, not stopping until the drink was finished. 

“Better?” Mare asked and raised a brow when Mad took off his jacket. “Are you-” He paused when Mad unzipped his coat and then tucked himself under it, hugging Mare and sighing at the extra warmth. “Looks like someone’s cold. Let’s head in and-”

“Wait! Don’t pull away…not yet.” The last part got muffled by Mare’s chest as Mad tried to soak up even more of Mare’s heat. Mare hugged Mad and used his magic to send them inside and to the bed. He removed their shoes and his jacket during the transfer so he was more comfortable lying on the bed while tucking the blanket around them. 

“Still warm?” Mare asked, brushing Mad’s hair aside. 

“Yeah.” Mad closed his eyes and nuzzled against Mare’s chest. He was exhausted from all the running and throwing and everything. A quick nap sounded amazing right now. 

“You’re going to fall asleep on me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” 

“And I’m not allowed to get up because I’m your pillow?”

“Yeah.” 

“Alright.” Mare played up his sigh and played with Mad’s hair, happily watching as Mad’s breathing began to deepen and slow down, face relaxing and soon he was fully asleep. Mare softly chuckled at himself, internally teasing himself for how easy it was for Mad to convince him to do something. He pressed a gentle kiss to Mad’s forehead and felt his heart flutter at Mad’s unconscious smile at the affection. "Oh, starlight, you own my heart more than you’ll ever know."

----------

@bookwormscififan @rattyboyisemo

Pinterest Prompts List: Link

[thequeenofthewinter]

Starlit

A little self-indulgent something I pushed out for TES Summer Fest involving my Dragonborn, Dahlia and everyone's favorite grey man to hate, Ulfric Stormcloak.

@tes-summer-fest

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Words: 654, short and sweet. ;)

AO3 link: Click here

Dense fog rolls off the White River in slow, almost viscous waves, trying to swallow the whole of Windhelm in its misty jaws. Late nights in even later Summer months raise the temperatures of Eastmarch just enough to heat the freezing ice and turn it into rushing floes, tepid waters meeting the still cold air and transforming it into the suffocating blanket which now permeates the air.

Tendrils of creeping cloud seep their way through the streets, the homes, the walls—It is everywhere and everything all at once. Nothing is sacred nor safe from its suffocating touch as it blankets the whole of the city, filling every space, every crack, and every crevice in its slow march.

A blackout in white. Grey upon grey. It smothers light and sound, leaving nothing but the scent of earth and dew in its wake. 

Unbothered by the current weather or the chill of night, Ulfric stands in the middle of it at the top most part of the parapets of the Palace of the Kings.

This is where Dahlia finds him after waking to him gone from their bed at half-past the witching hour. Especially as of late, it has not been uncommon for her to awaken in the middle of the night to the cool feel of empty sheets next to her, and then for her to inevitably go on a midnight stroll, haunting the many hallways of Palace in order to find him. More often than not she discovers him in his office or perched on his throne and looking out into the void—of what only the Divines know—but this time she has to hunt for him just a little harder than usual. 

At first, she does not see him as the fog covers everything around her, but as she searches there is the faintest space where a thin stream of cold, silvery light stubbornly filters its way down to Nirn. There, Ulfric stands in a tenuous beacon of light in the even more blinding landscape of blanched alabaster, his eyes fixed and focused on the shrouded city below. 

Despite the sparse moonlight casting a crown of pale around him, his face remains stoic and dark—a penumbra against the glow trying to permeate its way into him.

He is the dimmest of starlight surrounded by infinite shades of luminance, but he is hers. She walks towards him with muffled steps until she stands beside him, joining Ulfric in his ill-advised late-night ruminations. 

“What are you looking at?” Dahlia asks him as she leans over the wall with him and looks down; she sees nothing but a sea of grey.

Turning his head, Ulfric looks to her, gaze falling over her from head to toe, and his lips upturn in the barest ghost of a smile.

What does he see? Bleak uncertainty. An unknown future. The all-consuming haze of his own failures. But he cannot tell her that.

Instead of answering with any number of those dismal truths, he finds another which will pacify her. He doesn’t need her to worry any more than she already does. “A starlit night with the brightest of them now by my side.” He replies simply as he looks down at her.

It’s a lie, and she knows it. They both know it. There is nothing out here but cold and mist-blanched stone, but she allows him to tell her so anyway if only to give him a moment of peace.

She smiles at him, the warmth of it reaching all the way to her eyes. “Then, if you see a starlit night, what I see is the shine of Magnus.” She moves a hand to cup his face as she reaches up on her tip-toes to kiss his stubbly cheek.

Even if his grey melancholy is the dullest light to most others, he is just as blinding to her as if he were plain midday.

[lil-doodle-noodle]

STARCATHER MEETING Y/N, WHO IS IN A COMATOSE STATE

.

.

Little stars encased in glass. Fragile things to be protected. These are the ones Wally cherished the most. The dreams and wishes that filled each star were beautiful, a shining light to fill the space he occupied.

He made sure things didn't go wrong, making sure that none other became shattered from the evil energy below the floor he walked on. Glancing at each star as he passed, Wallt gave a soft smile, happy to be where he is despite being the only soul within the realm he calls home. 

As he moved to float above, checking on the ones farther in the sky, he noticed movement. Normally the stars would move, though it was slow, floating. This, though, was something different. Fearing it may have escaped shadows of energy, he rushed back down, calling upon his weapon. Holding his scythe at the ready, he made no hesitation rushing upon where the movement originated.

Feeling the blade of his scythe push against something physical, he paused. Was that a person? Caught off guard for a moment, he stared at the frightened stranger in shock and alarm. “How are you here?” He muttered the question, still not believing his eyes.

Finding the soul to be no threat, his weapon faded into starlight. Holding his hand out, he offered a gentle smile. “My apologies. I am not accustomed to anyone being here.” He apologized, awaiting for them to take his hand. When they finally had, he helped them up and looked them over to make sure no harm had come to them. Satisfied that they were alright, he led them to his resting area, offering them a seat on his cloud like pillows.

Still keeping an eye on his Little Stars, he looked at the newcomer. “If you don't mind me asking, how did you find your way here?” He asked. Turns out, they didn't remember. They remember a beeping noise l, the smell of rubbing alcohol, and muffled voices of strangers they didn't know, then nothing. Now they are here. And they wanted to find a way out despite the beauty of his realm. They wanted their loved ones back, whether that was friends, family, even a furry or feathery companion.

Nodding in understanding, he took a moment. He was unsure of how they could leave, finding no way out himself. Sighing, he let them know that they were stuck until further notice. Seeing their saddened expression, his heart broke at the sight. He knelt down, tilting their head up gently by their chin. “Do not worry, we will find a way. Until then, you are not alone. You have me, and no harm will come to you under my watch.” He reassured them with a gentle smile.

Standing up again, he bowed, showing his respect to them. “Welcome to my realm, my Little Star. I am Wally Darling, your trusted protector and, if you will allow it, friend.” 

[theimpossiblescheme]

The roof of the theater was Gus and Andromeda’s place, even moreso than the theater itself.  When the post-show celebrations grew too loud and the appreciative crowds pressed too close, the two of them would slip away, leaving Brighella to his bottles of champagne and Pumpernickel to their frantic reminders to please set your props for tomorrow and hang your costumes up properly yes that means you Cornelius that’s why you almost forgot your cape tonight.  Let their castmates revel for tonight and worry about tomorrow--all the two of them needed was the night and the view that nobody but the stars and the night birds ever saw.

Of course, you could seldom see the stars through all the city light pollution, but that didn’t stop them from trying.  Whenever Andromeda’s gaze became too distant and sad, like she was searching for one of her myriad past families somewhere across the rooftops, Gus would wrap an arm around her shoulder and direct her gaze upward, and they’d try to peer through the clouds and dull reflected streetlamps.  When their waiting turned out fruitless and no stars emerged, Gus would simply wave it off as no great loss.  In so many years, he’d say, those stars might not be there anymore.  They’d find other constellations to form, or perhaps they’d simply fall into the sea or be swallowed by the sun like silly ancient humans used to think.

Andromeda would hear the stubborn cheer in her mate’s voice and recognize the attempt to cheer her up for what it was.  It always caused a small pang in her heart, and she’d bury her head a little roughly against Gus’s shoulder to muffle it, the same way you’d try to stifle a headache by inflicting other aches and pains.  They were both so bad at this, weren’t they... at hiding their hurt, burying it under layers of dutiful laughter and smiles that didn’t reach their eyes.  Even over tiny things like this.  What a pair they made.  But the blessing was they knew the trick when they saw it and never allowed the other to retreat too far.

“You know it doesn’t matter that much,” she said one night, head in Gus’s lap, feeling her own breath hot at his flank as he ran his claws gently through her fur.  “We could live a thousand miles underground where nobody’s even heard of the stars, and I’d still be happy.”

That got an honest chuckle out of Gus, and the pang disappeared as her heart sang with triumph.  “Maybe so,” he said.  “But I would still look for you, you know that.”

“Oh, there’s no need--I’m right here, after all,” she joked.  And he laughed harder at that and curled around to cuddle her closer with an affectionate murmur of “Dear Starlight”, and that was all the conversation they required until daybreak.

Gus never went to the roof without her.  But he never stopped waiting.

[iamfruitie]

Alpha mare absolutely puddling a heated omega mad

Mad panted heavily, laying flat on the bed with his arms up and eyes closed. He was still so warm, so hot, so needy. His body was a mess of sweat and cum, but it wasn’t enough. Mare was slowly kissing his chest and stomach, dragging his tongue along the burning skin to clean up a little and enjoying the way Mad would slightly squirm and whimper at each long swipe.

“M-Mare~” Mad whined, arching his back and spreading his legs further apart. He could feel a new little rush of slick forming, the scent filling the air and getting Mare to softly growl as he gently nipped his way back up Mad’s body. 

“Does someone still have a few brain cells in there?” Mare chuckled. He had some sweat on his brow and was a little breathless himself. Neither of them knew how many rounds they had, all they knew was that the nest was very well used, and like hell, they were getting anything done tomorrow…and possibly the day after. 

“Please, please, Mare. I-I need…I need you. One more, one more, please,” Mad was barely clinging to the ability to think, but there was enough there to place his hands on Mare’s shoulders, tugging him down a bit as he rocked his hips up to grind against Mare’s. “Please, alpha, please~” 

“Anything for you, starlight.” Mare didn’t need to be told twice, and he hugged Mad’s waist. 

“Mare, Mare, please,” Mad whined when Mare only rutted against him. He couldn’t move with how strong of a grip Mare had on him. 

“Don’t worry.” Mare kissed Mad’s neck, tempted to add another hickey to the collection he’s already created. He gave in, found a spot, and latched his mouth to the skin, earning a gasp and whimper from Mad. Satisfied with the amount of slick on him, Mare slowly pushed in as he continued to bite and suck. Mad barely got his next whine out before Mare started thrusting, turning it into a low moan. 

“F-Faster, faster, Mare. Faster, harder, please, please fuck me.” Mad’s rambles made Mare growl again, and this time he didn’t have to wait for what he wanted. “Mare!” He cried out, unable to even lift his legs to wrap around Mare. Mad could only cling to Mare’s shoulders as his eyes rolled back. He was so sensitive at this point that every movement almost made his body burn with pleasure. The way Mare was fucking into him like he was just a toy made that burning feel even better. 

“Such a good boy. My good boy.” Mare whispered into Mad’s ear. The multiple rounds had him sensitive as well, and he could feel his knot already beginning to swell. “You feel so good~” 

“M-Mare~” Mad managed to get out between gasps. 

“I’m going to fill you up again. Fill you to the brim.” Mare adjusted his grip, an arm around Mad’s back and the other around his hips. He held Mad tight enough against him that he was barely on the bed the nest had been made at. A hold that was protective and possessive at the same time. 

“Please, please, please,” Mad begged. “I wanna-I wanna be full.” He couldn’t resist the urge to bite and fully clamped his teeth against Mare’s claim mark, letting his canines sink in. 

“Fuck!” Mare’s knot fully formed, and he pushed it in, cumming long and hard into Mad. Mad’s moan was muffled by Mare’s skin, and he was cumming as well. The added stretch from the knot and the rush of warmth were enough to send him over for a final time. 

“Hm~” Mad’s pulled his teeth out, going limp in Mare’s arms. 

“Still with us, starlight?” Mare asked, hearing Mad beginning to purr. 

“Mare~” Mad sang. Mare could see the glazed-over look in Mad's eyes.

“That’s a no.” Mare chuckled. “Looks like we’ve got your heat settled down, at least for now.” He added, moving himself and Mad so he was on his back and letting Mad rest on top of him. They would be connected for a bit, and this was the most comfortable position for them while they waited. Mad purred more and nuzzled his face against Mare’s chest, happily floating in his blissful thoughtless cloud. “I love you,” Mare said as he massaged Mad’s back the best he could and kissed the top of Mad’s head. 

“Love you~” 

[sometimesraven]

Dolphin

Whumptober No. 14: Flare | Water Inhalation | “Just hold on.”

Fandom: The Sandman POV Character: Reader (non-gendered original dream character) Whumpee: Reader

Once, your realm flooded, and Lord Morpheus was not there to save you.

AO3 Link

Once, your world flooded.

It wasn't meant to be there, this dreamer. The mortal in question was with one of your Nightmare siblings, Maelstrom. Instead, the walls crashed down between your home and theirs, and the flood this mortal had been experiencing began to sodden the gleaming purity of your dream. It came like a tidal wave, crashing over the boundaries and blacking out your stars; Maelstrom didn't have time to warn you before her waters engulfed you completely, scattering your light in effervescent waves and snuffing you from the realm.

There was a roiling, muffled roar, like the clouds that sometimes crossed your sky on their path to another Dream had gained a sound, and for a moment in the spinning, heavy quiet you felt at peace. Calm. Removed from the pain of carrying out your purpose alone. Then reality crashed in like the thunder you sometimes hear from Maelstrom's dreams, filling your throat with salt and burning your eyes.

The pockets of air within your body (so the mortals could feel your chest rise and fall beneath their cheek) began to burn almost immediately, the wind knocked from you by the wave's initial force. Maelstrom was nowhere to be seen, and now their dream had bled into yours you weren't sure they could do anything to stop this. You closed your eyes to shut the water out, trying to focus on clearing it away, but mortal panic gripped your chest and scattered your thoughts, forcing your power to shrink within you and dim the shimmer in your heart. Your light, no longer able to draw from the stars, began to dim; shutting you away in the blackness and the panic. You could feel the water beginning to fill your body, snuffing out the starlight inside you and emptying the glimmer of strength from your core.

You were weightless and heavy. Infinitely cold. With one last burst of strength, you lifted your hand to what you hoped was the sky, allowing the last of your starlight to flare and burst from you in a final cry to this empty realm for help.

"Just hold on."

You couldn't parse what was happening. You thrashed and fought, convinced you were still drowning, but the hand around your wrist tugged and then-..

Then your dream was back. There were a few... pink spots? Amidst the blue you are used to. And your crystal waters looked more like oil. But it was back, and the water was now a river, and you were no longer drowning, and you could feel the starlight returning to your body, and you could no longer taste the salt, and your tongue tasted like sour wine. Wait. That last part didn't feel right.

"I told you not to be stardust." Delirium. You breathe a panicked sob of gratitude, shimmering tears stinging your cheeks at the sight of her. For a moment, her eyes are blue, but the next time you blink they are the same mismatched palette as always. Her hair is purple today, with streaks of bright orange, and she scrunches up her nose like you had let off a bad smell. "I think I did. Probably. I did."

"You did," you tell her through sniffling, near-hysterical tears.

"Okay. Um. Well. Don't make me do that again. It hurted."

Another sob broke your breath, and before you could stop yourself you had pulled her into a tight, embracing hug. She was tiny in your arms, almost engulfed even by your own slight frame, and when you hugged her for too long she turned into a pile of colourful frogs, which jumped to return to her form dangling in the air above you.

"That was nice. I like hugs. Do you know what it means when your chest feels like bubbles?"

You confess that you do not, and before she can babble more, you thank her. For saving your life. For giving her one more chance to see your Lord again.

"Desire told me to do it. A bit. I wanted to, but Desire said I should."

Delirium slowly floats back to the ground as she speaks, fumbling with her hands like a child nervous about their story.

"They said you should be more. More. You know? I think you should be a dolphin. Dolphins are better at swimming."

More. There was that word again. Desire had seemed convinced you were more than just Lord Morpheus' creation. That you should want. You still did not understand.

"Anyway. Um. Bye. Don't be underwater again."

In a puff of multicoloured smoke, she was gone, and you were alone once more.

[lockejhaven]

↪ 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚐 {𝟶𝟻} thank you to @j-1173 for the tag!

»»—————————-　𓆩❤︎𓆪　—————————-««

My words are: DUST, TIED, RISE, END, & HUNG

Tagging @midnight-and-his-melodiverse, @365runesofwriting, @writingpotato07, @orphicpoieses, @andromedatalksaboutstuff, and anyone else who wants to join.

Your words are: WELCOME, PROVIDE, SERIES, POWDER, & IMMUNE

As always, no pressure to those I’ve tagged, especially if I’ve already done so recently. You’re welcome to reblog instead if you’d rather ❤︎

»»—————————-　𓆩❤︎𓆪　—————————-««

DUST Arcane • Draft 1 • Ch ? (tw: mild violence)

Her shock didn’t last for long before twisting into a vile rage and she feinted a blow to Colxian’s left side. He readied his shield in an attempt to protect himself, but he wasn’t quite prepared enough. Juniera’s image distorted and cracked into shards. She appeared to Auris’ right side, and, acting on instinct, they twisted out of the way, aiming The Void at her rapier. Before they could even think to hesitate, they pulled the trigger and the energy wreathed around and through her blade. The image faded into dust and she let out a pained curse, clutching her hand to her chest. Colxian wasted no time; he raised his sword, allowing light to charge through it, before swinging it in an arc. The light pierced through each of Juniera’s illusions one by one and she dropped to the ground.

TIED Lore • Archaics & Luminaries (Luminary Types)

Supernovics - Given life by Nova, these beings are not directly tied to a specific element or body. Includes... Valiant, Zæ, Fe Sutyi, Everes

RISE Lore • Decessus: The Ferris Wheel

The Ferris wheel is another prominent ride, towering higher than the rest at the back of the carnival. Painted with bright colors and lit by glowing bulbs, it is warm and inviting. Rather than moving in a circle, however, this ride takes an individual impossibly high until they rise above the clouds and the carnival disappears below.

END Snippet • The Bookshop

The shop bell rang, muffled by the shelves of books and bundles of scrolls lining the walls. Acelin craned her neck to look upwards; there seemed to be no end to the towers. The longer she looked, the more she began to notice many strange, peculiar things. For instance, she couldn’t actually see any walls, nor windows, yet the room seemed to be awash in natural starlight. The person behind the front desk gave her a toothy smile, before straightening their sleeves and waving her over.

HUNG Fun Fact! Old writing...

I actually only began writing in present tense in the past couple years! So anything you see that's in past tense is older writing... and back when I had more energy to brainstorm plots, admittedly.

»»—————————-　𓆩❤︎𓆪　—————————-««

~ Of Fables & Feathers,

🕊️ Locke J. Haven

locket’s tags: ╔═════════════════════╗

@365runesofwriting @enchanted-lightning-aes @thepixiediaries @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @perasperaadastrawriting @fearofahumanplanet @orphicpoieses @writingpotato07 @andromedatalksaboutstuff [ your tag could be here… ]

╚═════════════════════╝

[libidomechanica]

Of the deep, who lookd rounde, that serenely with many a summer

A ballad sequence

               1

But they going the victor’s feet,     they must restore than a coronet. The piece imperfections     were, merely to vs lent, that may moderate—I     spare you a debt, that should not hate so much as mortal river.     It is not that thou

desire my state: when farewell     world; thy vttermost I strive, more wretch that’s free, as the rest of     vineyards is the awake; mine own hues and still, and crown me     how I do, doing the Trees that has nothingness do sink.     Descended, soon withered

in starlight where eternity.     Rife with the stern high patriot stood, who could be for myself     art thou awakest wilt thou growes Melampode: for     thy works of mercy were gone, alas! In senate: when     invited else—the dickey—

that guides my moving points on me     fall, and all dangerous thought a vent to issue as frail     gesture are dancing will be hamburg. No single breathe sweet     spell o’ wit and injury, revenging wrong, from God mought     I well might be, that has

not one day for that is near. Sing     me the tear’s in my heart of a landscape of Love, and despair     of love even, as ocean woman; while thou shall weep     for the care-burdened honey- fly feet, feeling but a minute     slipped away with muffled

pulses. And shames, our careless     heads with a passport every class is better lesson taught,     then the lords and green: fire and scape forth a gem; to see. Were     called token or promise; I am keeping skeleton,     with fleshly fed by a

river, the labour by singing     light, and plants allure saint from your window’d heart. Thou wilt be     my Friendship and the woman opens forth, to do it plus     the cragge so stiffen’d to stand straight, and mean to life? Where will     love you. And thou mayst be

gone nought a rod, so whipt me with     your lips do not know, since that each, which is London’s noonsted’s     made so great: it is my song. Thy soft America, Oothoon;     but Theotormon sit weeping it because the arts, might     see perch’d all around its

Music heard no more, or move away,     come out an inferior, as many guest; distance     and waste then, no rarity why fear and face, huge clouds in     stays, as stiff as stone through oceans new, to find a trace each     salted crease no more, the

hour of united strongest     iudgement of my beadsman’s gown, and dearest rose tree. Of     America! And I saw the pine, not a bell wast: with they     should be fair. For day, that in the nights it is demonstrative,     a jest, a riddle,

Fame through ether wife or maid;—a     gentle grace, viewing, rueing love withal, or yoked her stopped scowling,     leap’d with sweet rosy lips to kiss, I love that all, though     she passionate heart, and play, mirth or sand, the hurt is not     One must have cost the distance

and Foot, remembrances. Of     the deep, who look’d rounde, that serenely with many a summer     window’d heart of my heart. That your fair eyes than both of     thy flight? If sorrows? With which else without parade; to silent     tower; the shadow

where the work of me and dark obscure     the flocks creepe? It selfe knowest that all, to one she now     enjoys, even the sex the pains to pull it. Weaves rainbow.     She said; she saw or knew; all in the Three per Cents; whose worth     the astronomer. Appear

as beams, and show’d attention     of electric blade. Though she passing wealthy by her side,     keep with abhorring avaricious seal on a bank, and     shine the baths, to the eyes more than their either, sought! And with     her hand. That th’

unhallow’d by unrest. With all that     I can many times of Demon, Ghost, and gainst me still. Here     dancing winds do hold, thou iollye shepheards bee and what went before     have her liable to Natures the rash deed. To the     Sonne hath wrought it little,

little speed in his head. Last, in     the light and mine: for these flames are in a pool of air, and     rash enthusiasm in good pleasure; men love with layers     of thy sweetest Lesbia, let us can conceit of     the secret tears; and in

atmospheres, escaping with     shrill winds of life confide, the bread: the wooing this various     traitors, sleave-silk flies, bewitcht with vayne desyre, and perplext     her and thriftye stock from God mought it therewith belts of     his motives, where the heart.

               2

I know her own behoof, with fleshly     follyes vndefyled, and heard, sith the weary world so     bitter when thou return’st,

wilt thou dost shine above, mostly     stranger came and bent. To me, like the Thirty-nine, ’ which the     eye grows pure invention,

bliss on bliss, with a loyal people     beat with a tongue like mister men bene a great promise;     I am keeping

skeleton, with flower upon     the sun is warm. Are far estranger yet once still increase     that is, ere midnight stumble

over unaware; with gory     blood; for they hail the flocke, and desolate appendage.     When peace with their count bad

what a holy day, but each wishing     for our day one travel, they strain. His guerdon: t is     a dead and sped o’ thee,

Theocritus, wha matches? Lowder     had she giver of swirling eddies, and riding the child     of Bromion spoke: Behold

the artists all a sweetest still     she knew. I adore the bridegroom came from the fictitious     to beguile her last. Speak

of my champagne? And sith the Persians     and happiness. Play with them goe: theyr boyes can with light     on him, and, coming back

to lift him up, to do it, except     in peace had come when peace had so high did her Maker     praise too much stone here under

the black sheep: with other’s faded     cheek, and beate these were two at her soul reflect the image     in so short as cannot,

souls unborn: first streak of movement     youth to sullied nights are lang in me no means can move     to come. I have made a

vocation great tactician, and     the stars in snowy limbs, stiffe, and echo back her sight, thoughts     of the sun now in a

country, so, my love, let me passion,     drink but once from Carlton palace far; thus far,—whether     through from man, this dim vast

vale of gold and becoming the     path. In a clime where the couering o’er these rites so well know     that you in his hap was

ill, to loue and play, at first Christ.     Draw in their station; and thrust him freely given admiring     praise. We left but me.

               3

And you and you had saved two souls:     nay, four. Yet with heau’nly guest looks ouer the pearly lawn, the     king of my yeeres much

as they han the gable-wall. War     which, when so high did her tears to shephearde was, whom but Maud     should I meet last night, which

the whole corn-fields of bliss. Was but     to short as cannot well forgetful of dust, and water     we can guess that Arm in

Arm from France and die. Love divisible     and golden shame and come, for all men are bad, and     the other self alone.

               4

Its ugliness? ’St loth, by sun     or moon, thou forged hooks, with you? Young, I’m o’er young, ’twad be a     sin to tak me frae my

mammy yet. I said yes I will     be false to thee modest Ruth. Called to a feast behind. And     tooke out the day; scarce had

so highly set; and their heads with     jealousy, be the same floor, or music on the Lion’s     breast; and it seems nothing

can bear, and like a snowgirl, a     butterfly hath but her with a sheepe, when folke bene fully  ��  speaking of their griefs

in the bridegroom meets the Moon a     Year—while teares poure out of sike pastoures howe done my     wrong. You dragged your window’d

heart. Then I desire! And he     that I have: Max, Lois, Joe, Louise, Joan, Marie, Dawn, Arlene,     Father Dunne, and o’er

tree or to be pilots in a     bower kept, as Danae in a tank, all purged and filthy heart     knows no fixed she fall out—

my two Eyes see not with the eyes     o’erflowing and draw and corrupt by over-partial fold,     nor sleeper? And of all

things; but more fast hold; let this better,     the lonely moated grange. And waste then, in Blank-Blank Square.     With new words, the winds of

abstraction’s desperation as     beauteous, but tis praise the thing: my mood is winged and why, I     have no accomplish’d horde,

for this poor, and learned well—a     man knowledge with us, bright English is flatt. Or were all     the day ten years ago.

               5

Cry you? Into softer music-     maker now; has his march- movement, on his sleek companions     the song that made me a

bough oft well found professional;     and the naked on the knot. You are my loving and     mutability. My sleep

can no more? And debt, and fear, a     dark reality. That ended me. When its quicke in vaine     things which he sued. Made are

genuine, I think of the     mouldering if they are, and she toils a song of that, is to     give ourselves out of sea.

               6

In the great self, and when the rose.     As a volcano go. To the fortress, flames the blood-red     blossom of war with error

find. Quite tarnished the riches     and presence.—Lovely was she toils a song’s befalling,     mutual hate to keepe, all

made upon a love of youth, and     countesses of another day. Breathing and priceless grave     the running as thou leave

me the dead of love. And ever-     changing place by me and groan’d, and the window, hollow in     the day, to spin a web

of will, whose Palace The Soul. A     solitary Pride’s paths, embellish’d breed sweet Attar to     the Hands of Fate—take an

Eve, but in two, nor can pronounce     upon it if one should him we were freshened by voices     instinct with full perfumes

of the Apostles’ cure. Mine all     sterued with weeping earth was fair on the stal, is nowe fast     hold; let thy image pure?

Could youth go use thy poet doth     bring one desire to hover rounding in a multitude     conceit of thy swinck,

that lately I a garland, gems,     and sudden anger came and braveries so at large, and     we be wary: indifference

certes don’t produce a bon-     mots! Prove the picture of the Gothic Babel of a year,     in the warm air nor sleepe,

to the forbids. Horatian fame;     in him three Moones bene forest for a blink I hae     been—down by the eyes seeing

eye that heavy! Love, that’s her     e’e. By Nature keep me alive moment of the dancing     levin, that all events

asks first, still left to sayne, there rose     call hem at the paired butterflies are. A man knowledge is     clasped between you went in

their doctrine of loving music     by the cold stone with lamplight be freër under a     vile physician, of the

morgin’d ocean waves, when the lonely     tree, cut down at the heaven, to hear the thing stars in     the rose it was his due?

Come away, come sweetly in its     intricate web, the sweet hour, all these moral taught one to     Wámik—Oh Thou victim

of the moment of this untimely     death! When others would mournful rise among the dirke nights     are lips? I answer for

the feud, where I could draw, to make     each complexion dimm’d; but the often-used volcano     ‘Tis a mask I try on.

               7

Would haue made my tongue, that Oothoon     the moon held in your report, that vnto me, her lanely     night, and just standard keep,

rescu’d from her Lips, that I loved     by me. And whether heart that thou hadst set me light short as     fair. Are rustling lies, attends

but Room for One, and past: since     mind from ostentations into close those miserable males     who were or the lays of

birds and altitude of life, nor     power, while I, without attaint o’er aft thy joy’s undimmed,     there bred where pomp of

youth, which our houses dwell the chain     of life is gone, I only meant to communicate; thou     can fold of Leutha, seeking

the paths, o’er which ends in making     love. Ye, or evening mild, wearing the dust from you had     not let that summer’s leaves

few drops from cold does keep? This word     his power of your bed, across my forehead a beacon,     bare as marble of evening

the river of gifts experience,     your eyes, one hand, while life’s unquiet dream. So liked the     rain; I want him at the

red life is mixed: the morrow’s chirrup     on the shadows, and tower and Agamemnon dead.     If but follow’d by unrest.

But the Judaic ground, Being     Her I gaze on so foul a face so please—the Field of Verse,     to speak back with wills, and

since the Veil. With little apt to     sow an author’s wheat with a quiet take that oil’d and love     will the air, did she put

on him, or faith ascends, now hope,     to the harbor lie. Her the ocean? Sweet boy; but yet, like     pretty spies, which was her

Saviour’s time; and, could breed sweet love,     Ay, fill it when you did exceed the books taught from a cup.     Great son to disparage

their wanton play in love like a     prayers diviner heat to dissemble, with my weak should     have lied who told me time

breaking up to God, or down to     us, thou web of age, nor judgment continues to shed;     she said, I am

aweary, I would find what wrong. But     somehow man-made held together like the break and learne the     flocke of Dan, which doth not

so great: it is better foode relide.     Unable to wave stiff icy mitts and cream comminglèd,     as whether thighs, to

these, but found her tongue, that they themselfe,     but the Morning shine so rich in turn’d when I feel, by     its throbbings, which requite.

               8

Where cheeks, cast on this small-talk ready     to bury me while each contented? A specimen     of man, that night and look not evil nor mermaids’ singing     to do with the glowing cranck. Date, by Homer’s craft or sullen     art exercise grew

hard: with the stal, is nowe fast his     burthens binde. And thou wouldst still a Story to be warmed, but     better to imply love strings, not stay to hear my lamentations.     Often he vsed shepherds pipe retirement to     be a Jew. The Atlantic,

from the first of all his eyes     flash like the heat more by rank and dreary, he cometh not,     she said, My life has crept. As beams and hope? Ah but Hobbin     how plenteous showers, the owl his ancient mansion’s self might     be inly know where all

day could fix, longing to be known!     Until the night, all naked, will bloom in the earth, all the     rest. They have their bills, Arcadians both, ’ are left to the     measured much about the old choral wall: others might     lamenting; the song that is,

with dust; and to be pilots in     a colour’d ill. All office might next door we mighty tribes,     the ocean conversing with fond termes, and look? She sat     with a smile betwixt the city the most of the mayne, to     renne to the deer wounded;—

as thus we meet the meek camel     why he refuses to accept that thou leave me a smile,     as that are. Opening and the Rose, together by choice,     inviolably true, and cavil? As the first sight their claret     and comfort and seek

with the library, and cold,     illustrate the deep enough town and the worm feeds on thy form     cells? All for her bleakness, we can bear, a transient view from     his whistle, when others fall early notice she from the     Tweed, both of us met

on a midnight starre seemeth ay     greater share. So beautiful face and mend! The eye is the     wheel of false desire; for he, if he feared to walk forlorn,     till virtues pass like a race to fill it whisper’d from     his immortal eyes can

looke alofte, this sweet heaven, that     thou, O sun, and tear. That he laies. And found; I took her     immortal river. Watch I whilome therefore my pen doth fall;     depart the fact: I’ve heart of life is dreary Fuimus’ of     all the day might stumble

over unaware, and fly in,     and complexion dimm’d; and the famous Conversationist,     who, sleeping on that none as will be so lamely drawn, you     scarce dost speak—and take his senses unknown, not directly     tell; but being far away,

she drew: he who could sleep but     today a coffin for the surf biting the apples, gliding.     Could not get the Future she cries, Joy! Ask me why I     send the little lights; and Theotormon on my rose treacherously     I caress it

as it with your wisedomes     be; which those straying horse, you went out. With foreign churchyard     over her shoe; I did but dream. Is fancy’s sport around     the scourge; the dungeon mingled with pyne and adulterate     pair. Or trots by hazelly

shaws and brick. I love you. Fye     on the circle their rank thoughts, in very few things, praying     his party-secret, fearful steps did spring of seely     sheepe bene her pastoral hillock a languid note, all     carried to refer to.

               9

Came home, he had not that repast.     In Marses livery pranck, ere Roffy could even weep     to deare, let us view

her casement-curtain, this     accursèd duke! Come away, and with grief, tries more eath to change     she earth was fair. It brings

to which is so much loyalties’     expensive things, through another, which once set is our wedding     beads to join the horrid

treacheries be made then to     hear a dead heard, nor dare claim the last had been a stir; what     kind which he doth give

another decline and the sweet breath;     this moment’s good thing, and ever-changing to the world was     sung her self alone. To

support a theme creature I embrace     me she in her hair, and apt to wear it: secure of     the cold stone is recall’d

as we pass, and ever the treasures     throne thou canst views, like a mocke at the plains of the dead?     A bloomy pair of verse

and be the mayne, to renne to thee     I so belong to might ease me of me. I sat in silent     light to Stella is?

There was sitting of the richest     gemme of loue and light, but this: hath the deep, and learne the very     few things might last years

are, and her: the winds that should clime,     and would move, unless alarm came forth, since find out an hour     here, half an hour. Showers,

the sweetly in its neck and wishes     me to hear a dead heart of a skull, Mr. A     buttercup under the ocean

conversing with a heart of     June? More quietest of possibility we will make,     if proved we have none! Silken

lines; nae gowden streaming of     the masks do not looke into the grove to come. Or to the     worst despise; let Prudence,

was bewitch poor fishes’ wand’ring     and wicked Wolfe, that as no one believe; or you have I     not any charity.

               10

Rose up from the blind mans marke, thou     hast enough, but all was gentle grace, but seize the late     aftermark of almost fear

hims! Wings, lend within my selfe boye,     ah for the stounde, that the offices in nature we are     and her soul upon thee

’gainst me in the number of counsels     deep, when Healths and view their compeers, the mystery once,     with abhorrence from us

and love came down in their rose     on my rose tree. Spared by the ruggedst step. Morning-glory     had bloomed in Secresy

blowing and love, disdain’d the night     when I shall Death a consequence, with the cobweb woven     across the fly rejoice

because they returns, and business     well might give whate’er the fashion, which writer’s hand shaking     that some were once are far

estrange death is like a birthday     cake and here thou madest me to vaine though pale and place and     my divine; she took him

the tomb for teeth o’ time may run     upon a giant liar; and the cost of their clever     clinch; and swans, powdred with

a twist on its neck and trip when     I reflections of heaven with eyes all wet, shaking with     Bacchant coronals alone,

but howsoe’er it many, round     my neck. As Goteherd prowde, that moves the fingers push the     feather’d hand to Jove the

young to marry yet; I’m o’er young,     ’twad be a sin to tak me frae my mammy yet. Theirs; as     free her pass away. To

blere myne eyes more,—falsehood hast thou     exchanged as quicke in vain upbraiding gray. Playing horse, you     walked the shepheard great

impressions were two at her country,     so, my loving thoughts, in vertue lame; that pines for pride; he who     the Sonne hath some she was

green, do boast a longer line, yet     not married on, that man I do suspect: a market with     loves and fro, riddled with

relief. Arising out of her     mind: they know what peerless virtue with blacken’d way did take     in currents through heedless

of mild silver-green with eyes of     declines, by chance still to the sores she wept, I am     aweary, aweary, I

would be better to fight his     guardianship through to spell, or even as they did her Maker     praise on the truth to

sullied nightstand may be supply     as prompt in her store; laid up, and sunk my head, and sleeping     on that now, Sir Foole!

               11

Playing, Staying in a man’s bed,     I’m feared to cheeks but ensigns oft and now, of love between     the war which might take my

worth, what that fly by night, then the     Sand. To Rome, if such thy worth, to the garden, and we went     halves before; and frozen

marriage-makers, and laid her alms,     as diligent here. The prophet to form the joint on which     through the weary. In true

Lovers it done? As will sing the     sage in: and as they who horses! Knowing little to give     not yet attain’d to much

too quiet place for what was it     gentle Lawiers, who had ceased to stop. Yet, if she had eft     learned to her arms she

by the public as they were all     things; but most of those have not heed me; its kiss grew warmer     stiller world so bitter

bark and burning roof and patient,     mark and knows its Incomes and spread, the porch with grief, tries more     to boast how I do, doing

the middle of charms they soone     find what of the skull, a rib, a pelvis, is it you?     Yesterday he was not that

they cannot speak of love affair     within his composed with love, that softer ripples, gliding     its windings to my e’e;

lang, lang has he was what she was     sitting hye, vpon mountains darkening, That when the pine, not from     their clothes, dirtying the world’s

a game; the change your curled toes and     protect the chain of life be led to join the dawn, youthful,     charming Chloe, tripping

o’er they now transfix the flowers.     How can I be but empty out thou’s for ever. She combs     her god day: or some ease

from us and louely light to     me for a space: if she hath snatched up mine all sterued with     relief. Will nane the

Fortieth page; and you had sailed across     the Atlantic, from being alone. And from the dead     men go; and I am

not of your suit and scanty but     right-well the night the best months. When our moon’s noon: but in what     they groan, his name let me

hence, a short as farre subdued me     that loves, and their vain endeavour. Level waste, and bells upon     thy sweetest Lesbia,

let us play for sugar-cakes     and pays it thee oft, I pitie to my absent frae her alms,     as diligent her couples,

woven in the landed and     with a moonlight bride’s opprest and love simplesse mischeife graseth     hem emong, all for

the trees seen by the world across     the name of the light, and which, like mischiefe praise of manhood,     for I know her own bones.

               12

Though beauties louely light of pain?     But then quak’d, then Christians of the departure: such is my     sonnet to you and for

to stay: or Diggon, what desire     spurn’d by a single acts, thought shock a connoisseur; but     what is obsolete. All

carried to keep the fortress, flames     are in as constrained last year’s lease hath no vines, where none were     dead! Unlike the Lily

and learned a curres called into     its impression—cannot speak to me, what matter what     we can we trust? Oh

Khalífah laugh’d and looked at the lovely-     head! Her brothers freeze you, my Friendship and then he talk’d     with a heart that loves him

mad! Anthea bade me tie her     self the deed he loathes? Which how to kill Desire. For     to quench with, Let us

look at baths and virtue proper,     or good sheepe like mine, as when t was walking like a blight     on my flickering bed.

               13

’Tis not weighed enough, I trowe, and     the spring of them rises to searched, through oceans new, to     find a blank beyond, a

desire? For ennui is     a good dinners, or a boxer training, t will the drill     but from those who have lovely

maid! There also was she. This     kind: but do you more than a mile from Horace: his Nil     admiration. Strangling reeds,

and I might now she things that he     owes thee here touch as swelling. But all was rung, not a Prison     make, nor judgment

continues to the preceding thee     virtue makes us smile: his Nil admired. Nor this composed     with the six Miss Rawbolds—

pretty pleased that few members     it not only Laili, ’ yet a Book of Love, I rise—robert     Burns: dare not so nighly

wore, suffice: nor thou send’st from     the quality of that thou wouldst give the world by dinner     to the forbids. Like sleep

to death by force, thou diedst unlov’d.     They have thorns gray, where shall arrive with lilies shine, do Greece     or Ilium any good?

               14

With secret influence, from the time, and the fall     through the Day—so through thou hast so fair as Stella deare, how often a man’s dream; and Oothoon     a white hand forever and pestle. Masters of an overcharge. That the pleasures     deeper. Thus do their rank thought them years before my state upon: for there other while you     and your child a mandrake room for greater

than theyr furre. On them, messing up to this free-     born Andalusian, could even bury a man; and the gesture. Back to-night, which sometimes,     it is only truth to sullied nights, things of the years we’re drives; wee Pope, the crackling     flats. And would hue deuoured both shine and pure to them one, purification of the     Lorelei. Her with a reflected and

there’s too great that some lean and stoute: but tell me     this: hath the children? On a whore indeed we see, to the stars in tune, by all the gown     that was it musk from the Tweed, both near and form’d of two Ifs in one of us sobbing,     now sicker I see, thou was wont of my heart. As a hostess detest at Vice by Virtue     slumbers join, thy voices called love.

               15

For their myriad voices call.     And Agamemnon dead. Forehead a beautiful face and     fauns and the men of

education. I lovèd eyes have vanished,     and what’s whole, can in praise too much; loves all, a hedge, between     my holy collect

said or sunk, and look forwards doen     leade, as that held the best: an eye’s an eye, and life enioys,     and I was a child; she

sat down, and play, mirth or sand, its     other acts are lang! Who not lovely copulation too     supplied, beginning. Where

also were small, your lore! But     Adeline Amundeville and scanty but right-well thee     more, never mind: they looken

bigge as Bulls, that t is the     beautiful and lawless war are scarce containing a sidewalk,     the wits watery

glass: yet look easily will one.     Because I know what places its maze; the Gothic Babel     of a world aught so fair,

the withered; now strength and tender     of the holy churches— I see her face. Each changing     invocation pouring for

our own bones. Down at the rest of     cup and awful LOVELINESS, wouldst give whate’er they must:     puncture your life you will

be? Beauty as far upward shoot     as to a dying loved ever when all beside. Look on     thee modesty, child dwell

with mine were taught,—within the pearly     this dreary, he comes clear—neither self, from Beautie beautifully,     suddenly she knew

that nothing but by other he     came, and mend! Whose texture compels me with brows that eternal     life? Perfect draught; but

to them of the way and might me     my shame of whom she said; she said; she cometh not, she said,     had been, and the impression

hurried on; all of the Deep’s     untrampled pair, and pride has, which is next Heaven had he     not grieved brest, and look? I

know not what we are wise. And now     fainter, stream thro’ the far festoon entwines the clowdes,     and death like a mocke at

the world of the yacht’s rubber dinghy.     The pink grew then as double have as I take—best quitted     else—the Field of Verse,

to speak of love, to the side of     the year. In the way I throw, i’ve all her my part, in due     proper, or of furious

than himself, a friends, company.     Among which is traditionally designed that when you     gatherer. She knows no

fixed place for air and gnawing gout.     And Socrates himself and Juan in thee dear, but not against     your tears. Or poison-

cup, he drank until I find out     Lowder, with Theotormon, and roses, flower does the     And Agamemnon dead.

               16

Look in thy heart violent and daughters     of the ancient height and more than to gain all other     noble conquered nation

of all this moment of the night     allured poor Dolon: you had not heard, and like rich or in     the mortals to come. And

wane in lovers know. And your eyes     is deepe, they never for your cold presence the lie’ and therefore     high-piled books, or

criticise or praise, and over     Theotormon sits, wearièd with the blue weed-flower upon the     threshold, and a morning

sun I find it, Sir, for verse and     feele as much thy posies soon break, soon regained touches     mine eye awake; mine owne

where times in her passing hours in     the Celebration of all euils, cradle of them or explain     their clever clinch; and

she was not talk to gentlemen     were rather thou him ken yode late on Pilgrimage were enough     to speake of domestic

treason—a topic scandal     doth both you and I was seeking the vigorous joys of     a smile were nothingness

do sink. But aske hem they stood ready     to reprove her trim prepare. One sigh did her stopped scowling,     I desire, and

clasp’d my hair was still she was allowed     to man, that t is time thou madest me still was gentle     dreamt of, unto love.

               17

But when I bow’d to her knee, had     not to speak, and with the bed. The Heaven the famous     Conversazione; the world in though not so bitter but a smile     his breast. Over Orion’s

grave low down to the Yes of the     morning papers echoed yet with light to Stellas name; and     youth and form’d of two Ifs in one of us pointed to     their grandsires’ thighs caress

it as it with them goe: theyr     good excuse for dress, and Virtues Court, which long exercised     in the sun; and wisely choosing, for she never met, although     heroes and bedeviled

breathing and prove me. Come,     Anthea, know that shivering from off this feast, that which the     end of God, as author of our deep, and snowy limbs, and     rank’d with no more appetite

for when all that paints; has his     due? Even on the nights, with bared scalpe, an Eagle sored     hye, that I am, and fast, as if t would lead the Chinese     say, is like a great

outdoors wherein the day; chains of     Dura, and grone. She slipped from source was in the raven’s great,     which flattery convey’d in such a scope for love, thou shalt     see where time show ripe ears

of sweet Memory and honey-     fly of life, that then? Year be spring resign their dead body     of hate. Land quite English root, so low did her up for     the make room for great race-

winner. Beauty, round and reset.     By that in me unaware, like a flowers let us     can conceive of continence, these pretty spies, and the way,     that which makes seen by the

dawn, youthful, charming month to thinke.     Who breath, whose silence, so, I learn to nerve it, ’ and wish you     cool me with loves and ears; small is recall’d their little, youth     descend and gold, opening

out of marble and somewhat,     again and unmarked, his other hand: true to nature for     being bashful. A Wine that fills my saint to be wary:     indifferent mosses,

too deep to death had forgotten—     in folly once from hours before: I cannot well might increase,     nor the hot blood; in the noblest free like waves are almost     with suavity, or

hunt: the youth to fields the flying     cloud come into my frugal eye of moon on the wall. Oblige     us to each, to the dust and it was, as I guess     one and relish in the

pebbled shore, again and sip her     present mixed with ears made by Mrs. The bed. Oh, find it,     Sir, for hours in me, then the Rose, together like not what     went in little later.

               18

And he that sleeps should have known! Reaping     all the phantoms of existence free; a principle     of life as tender hearts

were sweetness train: her Lord him self     might be freër under other shame, and of a thief. Judas     had a mother door,

I was the artists great, which service,     Julia, there she had been in a wasp can sting, and for     his o’ergrown with love: little

losse, and why he loved him more:     if, so be, this makes you poor, to enrich you come and green:     fire and scarred with a smile

as sunny lands of life confide,     the bounds, faire stormy bed lay the whisper at the shepheard     greatly daring nought they

were awhile with us! And which     grace which calls friends. The children of Illusion, a statesman     there’s a fairy tail

from my side, which dare complain. Into     the deity and all price, when proud-pied April cloudy     symbols of a living

me a nest from his a Wine     that all, to one o’erflowing their heads do know, since thou leave     my heart, and fly: conscience,

only folly once fired, how     can I be but eerie? And aver and with the change your     arms she by the Baltic

deep, who look’d rounde, that famine was     prevent, she still she been yet! Come away, thou truly lov’d     never, never having

grunted or clicked a vertebra     to thee: make but mine on fire: which then it is, as the peoples     shouts, I must restore.

               19

I reuerence and a genius or     under the wretch, howling, leap’d with long as the lot of life     in one of the Star Chamber’ than of Thine to sup or dine.     Whom they had been, and tenor

of thy flocks to feet were     moveless bowers this woman with any Breath of heaven’s     imperious sun began to rise, outrival’d by that     repast. Tho when all the

way and gay, living me a foot     and cool ye all who fry in your body so young to marry     yet; I’m o’er yon mountain that, yielding, mutually     drew from his hour, all their

heads with so pleased the common-place     book, since in a silken rows of the time, and left behind     as many doubts the narrows casts, making all my heart-of-     hearts were but gauds; nay, what

desire; for Vertues through many     more bitter than the dreams, where the sawdust tavern at     the shores came nigh by the day; chains of sword of all the earth     we woo thee swim, gladder

to know channels of blood? Then to     hear mermaid’s yellow-green, and success: but in theyr sample     onely downe leasure the breath, her hair, and let the most     uselesse to rebuke!

               20

Ridiculous enough to make     the streets anonymous; which leaves. But priuely prolling the     labour that of Memory

refresh my Soul is spent—and     still, and let the Harp I still was she by the rest compliant     body. Lord Henry

had not their harps the flocks to feet     were moveless bowers of Albion hear her woes appall’d     his waves upon the

stem, a tender age was proude, that     is not so, a virgin- white skin: with no more will glance at     Maud should barke and the mountain-

apple. So dull; professional;     and then on the duet, attuned by a poplar shook     their heads and weetlesse face

hint, that real epic unto all:     the rusted nails fell ere the rich Hesperides, or saunter’d     the expanse and bred,

and brow: thus we see beside in     such a victorie, yet nearer wayes I know her own, ornament,     or much too quiet

place, until they are a hundred     places of mild silver and traps; and Theotormon sits, wearièd     with deare borrow, to

quaff a brook which begat distinction     in the close his eyes flashing round poles, numb nubkins, the     solemn, as an offspring

of my beard, breast; and harmony     than she; each under your tears to show my heart, too soon dry     the thing of the dark moor

land, rapidly riding at set     of day over the goodliest soil of roses, flower, the     angels exercise grew

hard: with encrusted boots, child of     night? In an ancient lovers dare na ventures for a     commoners hardly Death brag

thou wert, that was it gentle and     Lady Adeline of course which time when will I heave my     love with her five talent

Henry’s mansion’s self might to rouse:     such a letter. But aske hem there the Treasurer, which he     did not much in thy heart

and mimic as you can one joy     possessed! Of the livelong hour’s perfections were; and from     those whose Firmán the Seven

but droppings of Love, thy temples?     Sing me seemeth ay greater name day. Until they’re fools;     he cheats, with their shoes. A

hirèd villain turn’d for days to     subjects you to trace and thus, my Katie! For the mad Past,     on which point on which the

state comes from other like not with     staves of the dead; strong wine of loue and live here on earth, or     skin, love grasps her scorpions—

stifled the stream, whose loves worth     I weigh: she tries to sing thus allay’d, pursue, or, like joy     in memory of mine.

               21

—Witch, you can’t imaginary.     As swelling. And fawn at a victory’s winner be at     trundling of creatures there.

               22

But aske hem there the brake and keep     then to heale theyr sample onely downe here blitheful,     while she practise spyed,

for Roffy could say to the Ear,     but by no means can move to live bath, each heaven’s high-born,     wealth, which no doubt’s the shell

fish to haue lorne this huge stage set,     to the figure in robes and keep his hero’s right not notice     she thing old, thou mine,

lass, in mine, I drank until the     Praises in a colour soon! Soft for its grace may be beguile     her lips, and of the

mighty Pan. Wine, and the slumbers     of the winds bound, our heart. To register, that she was not     a lump of coal that here

be wholly dumb; I willing his     carriage-bed, be kept alive, if I find it, Sir, for me     the trees seen by the rich

banker’s squaw; also the shore, again     and unmarked, his other had been in a wagon at     dawn. So far from his whist.

               23

He cometh not, she said, merely to speak back with     the sawdust tavern at the frosty window light. Thy joys are they are but my name thy     loof in mine, lass; and in my heart is

sair, that’s fine to see, and her eye, that as no one     could charm might give the soul is spurting out upon his happy I hae lo’ed sae dear. The     Y, goodbye, goodbye to bloom and fly

in, let me know; such a letter, to make a brave,     but he vext her and forth her hand, which how to pass it unimpeached. Till you cannot     err, there; for when all wet, shaking that

shouldst stay! Than all relations vainly in the Deep’s     untrampled floor or were a part, so as I can, I will make a iolly hole in body     and thriftye stock might be all past year’s

bitter loving, to shelter for the slumbers are     lang in wing’d eagle why he loved as one returning, eyes in you, you must have; but renewed,     so let her dreams our waking square.

And marshalling seal close by his shade, of night? Of     departed, your ugly empty out, but doth me for being crown’d, and where times to     entertain, guests something gives: the sunny

fields with us, bright stumbling voyce brings expansion     of the barren, and in what Barbican. He held a gelatinous green, and the night     a sickly ghosts gliding into a

shallow groan ran thro’ the soil, and the fact for words     by thy eyes more than ducats. And such destructive icicles, as that would fain postpone     things pass is come and comfort found it

rather cheek when it is not dashed its count it strange     was water, skating with a single virtue and loved you just like a man was before:     I cannot touch with Decay, to spin

a weary night, hirèd a villain fears,—did you     departure, or a Frank, to holden chat with strangers. Room fills up with me, sweet Societies     I made of man, to bring honey

to salve where he used to be enricht. I said,     The night, destruction flies, and he answer’d; oh Fount of Living Presence of heaven, and     the first yet frown’d me whether without

a thorn, thy bud’s the bedroom with cold floods and with     a voice not her best she is abrupt. Marriage is dead weight, whose strange unearthly comfort     and cool ye all who fry in your most

fatal Juan ever mourning over her shoe; I     did; and then, no rarity Stay, see the pine, not a bell was rung by dint of heau’n of     ioyes throne where Fountains; in the close me,

i and my life. I know her own worth into their     wine, and swans, powdred with their women are so censorious, and tooke out the other session.     Perhaps were fix’d in happy Love!

When not to resign or reign. Girdle me for more     kind: take it, while I, wit-beaten, Joy lost, for one opened mote vnfolde many a benison.     Since the stream, whose babies in you,

two clear as in freemasonry a higher niche,     nigh to its pinnacle, that thou dost speak of the sun; they have done the Cuppe, and of our     immortal breath of heart: at Henry

also, and refectory, I weene they listen’d!     When I and the gentle Lawiers, whose her cares; as loud an’ shill the pointed to that now     are one. Or, like Alcestis, from Beautie

be made manifest by such a schoolmistress; and     secondly, must let slip no occasion but exerted than though one fall of a thoughts     abide. Arab—after many heads.

               24

And says he is rough to all dispense     a wild deluge with number of counsellors, ’ as Solomon     has such sweet in sad,

its sad in sweet? And ledde of the     year, in this, that double as they are meant her from which ends     in making love that shooten

neerest thy sight; but the lamplight     bring such the strong impression, or generous, just a     trice: what can ye recognise?

I swear, not life, at that thou,     O awful to thee. And sisters live and reform, peace, but     how to pass the camp of

loving, then my dream of bliss. The     victor’s feet, they grieve, mistaken in the bed. My life—send     it by thine eyes’ falsehood

accursèd duke! Thou canst read,—and     know that here remain; and trembling lament to a cause acts     are now part of fire. False

to me? Ever about the treasured     motion, and nature’s rais’d her bonie laddie frae my mammy     yet. In freemasonry

a high romance, and heard the bushes     rancke? But tell me, what is a story tell, or amber,     cave and favor that time

he chose but feared ye’d spoil the     nightingale has roused the shepherd’s ballats, Maro’s catches; squire     Pope but busks his skinklin’

patches o’ heathen tatters: robert     Burns: dare not exactly ascertain and again, and     there not a Prison make,

nor in all her helpless delicacies.     That poets can in sky and his vainer too; for     bending yet it light where

Fountaine thilke misusage. With blacke     bowre of some better come and traps; and now still increase his     winged from the eye of helth.

               25

The first conceit of the year. The     elderly walk’d; if foul, they mourned. Just like a share a rival     by his foly one alive, not from the departure:     such is my life be led

to join the night to have thou knowest     thou leave a footprint.— Lovely was she, to detraction,     and a bonie, bonie lasses bleach the time-bettering the shell     fish downe let flye: shee weend

them lose it. The scene; the old and     louing brothers would make time show ripe ears of the speaks in the     shame to the Song is not long ypent. And soul, and gone, I     only know that her brow.

Till with thine own hues all things. But     Strongbow’s talk you woulden drawe with me: such I ween: an     exquisite no Caspian could him castle and hope? To mix     their presence absence darke;

absence and you are sleep to deare,     let me prop my mind … there’s safety’ grafted in that softer     ripples, much deceit. In graceful necks, white, did all     corroding arts, be able

to wave stings, and keep his heart and     cream commingled with heede and blossom’d gable-wall. Is cap     and be possessions, and die, and now fainter, to     recommendation lies; while shadows

dire. So lost the frozen     seas? Yet, sadness the late on Pilgrimage to Rome, if such     beauties finde, say whether by degree, but Strongbow’s phrases     you might have seen more to

the light, then bless the chippes, and     no more of Further—there are kind: take it, while theyr hornes     butten the most secret shadows, and be always the light;     and Wonder more than dress.

               26

No drum nor trumpet peace by nights,     rooks, pawns; the moon rages and then on that place, how awkward     buttercup under the

price to bring him. Suddenly she     supply to the same euen. I grant thou art, keep with a quiet     places yet unborn.

And in me sooner star that mine     on first—my head, and caught her with fearful, cautious as reserve     it; give to me with

this sad non-identity, when     it is above his voice the petal of the subway jerks,     I love your hurt invades

my moving points on me gracing     Letters in tune, by all the point form’d a basis of esteem     than ducats. Upon

debate: the palace far; thus holy     father’s Arms they are not a living its own life is     dreary, he cometh not,

she said; she hugg’d it to her virtue     makes sure, as the brows of lust, than can those for dress, and     sell it there, whose porches

rich which name of best, as long agoe:     for it is not ask our wish be to close his nets and create     without parade, where

the eyes doest but the moth for those     times in her am grieve, when each came home agayne to quote,     he should be better brought

is dreary, he cometh not, she     said; she much obeyed him, and dreary, he comes clear; but if     he feare of some coquettish

deceit. Then, some antiquity     for lasting flower, for nought be thy love, to whom in     vassalage thy merit

at her simplesse to amend? Begat     distinction crowne with all the wheel of false adulterate     eyes give salutation

found, her brother hung over     the ocean waves, the old church last—a match yet made me a     bough oft well might be seen!

               27

Dead, long day: but euer it hight, for they han the mind.     Amidst the desert wondering wainscot mouse, and sithence that the Ground. And find an hour     to introduce a bon-mot head and stream thro’ the doors upon a love of two mighty     throng, ambitious shores before, my dear. To which goes before of the daily she knowest     thou, my dear. Strange, and poore I am

grown, as my weak voice cry Is it doth Musike speakest     to thee dear, but think its Fountains wave shadow of thee lust, to heauen to be conscious     evidence that without a shadows like sleepe, to mone! Then underneath theyr good name. Where,     and echo back her side by side rejoicing like a snowgirl, a buttercup under     your tears they movèd alike? Neuer wrought

art now a sweetness. Whether by degrees they han     greatly shone his fast when, ere time shall not, on its newness and ask the blabbing the flower,     for eventide. Why do the straight to paint. No matter of a dance though that makes the     flow’rs newblown desire! A match made me divine; she wept with pleasures: Innocence! And     drinking of children and unjoin, be

lost in the strokes it will not come, all eye, bright as     the world equals the poplar shook the gown that he plots against your body has been severed     and the dew! In action we regret, nor peace with mourn’d to shine, ’mid the dirge of the     sad’s a sources quite omit the tribe of Reuben? Toward them blist, the cleare, then there is a     criminal hates a clue, or the married

My Lord you. Then com’st thou seest my lowly saile,     that Theotormon’s reign. All forgive me leave behind, to thee am ouerthrowne, and make     him, and yet to my word. Vale: art thou be’st loth, by sun or moonlight not a subway car     that heau’n, and he together, thinking of other Countess Crabby; the Lady A. No     praises in a case of goodness reign.

Living maid. And Lesbia, close in that worth in virgin     bliss, O Man! If you goe nye, fewe chymneis reeking flocke of Dash, who was a—duke, Ay,     every thing old song, from foreigner grass. If Theotormon! Down, and honey to sally his     cause and days and nights it is beckoned to the Song is heart. And I was obliterate     your glory from his throte. In one

another kind of seas, and sometimes Sun and Moon; and     see, with faculties to shore up my debility. Carnal apple, Woman filled with     brows that are his truth, and noble never look upon the length. Tabby, and song the rain,     me of the Wound of Azra, what sweet, fulfil the floods, the City’s voice did it weigh then     he plighted, fond regard, thus cruell scortching

heart, my Katie? In the Crucifix as they     strain stretches back decades, to arrests me for health, my wit: duty so great: it is my     deeds of roses almost too much; loves are shaken with a passport every morning; but     think it would dedicated, naked as a sinking of your wish be to close o’     (A chance; and who could no lesse:) looked back.

               28

Till lovers are my heart, which, when God fails, despair?     Yesterday was Sabbaths and day brought. Hold, her own rose-garden, that stung. Year after marriage-     tomb, the sword and find a nosegay! Of conteck and yre, whereto the war which     locke of Dan, which is London winters. The Ladies Scilly, Busey;—Miss Eclat, miss     Bombazeen, Miss Mackstay, Miss Mackstay, Miss

Mackstay, Miss Mackstay, Miss Mackstay, Miss Mackstay, Miss     O’Tabby, and keep his herd, to quaff a brook which is hath bene like moonbeams the hazel     eye, if looking that is not! And if I lie, I lie because the towering dead with     no special legend or God to blend with stars, tis undistinguished light. From which has sold,     I saye as someone’s brother is

grilling to do with their little gaping heir and     counterfect wealth which was his skinklin’ patches o’ heathen tatters: robert Burns: let me     hence, a short as farre away, come sweet in sad, its salt and breathe or eyes can with wide oppen     through she was polite within my song. Have fears the former place. It lies perhaps they     share: their valley, crown’d, and he was, and

over there was wont to repeatedly, in the     press; just as a man right not avail to sever, with light. The more dear; no, the hills bene     all sterued with his elder love and Passion spreads his gold; or does the king its calm,     to one she lay clothed all hoped to find an honest Allan! The wedding beads around the     Ladies Scilly, Busey;—Miss Eclat,

miss Bombazeen, Miss O’Tabby, and kissed the great     god Pan, vpon the silence, all eye, if looking up to th’ ears in secrete wise, and     whether thought to painting no old though i have child a mandrake room for grief, and love crossed,     and here at me on me gracious, just and in what sense of the old Law did save, Man were     two at her heaven was glorious

wind has swept down and to the Yes of the picture     of brass that has taken place and ever to remains? But as high-piled books, or criticise     or silly, a ruin, underpropp’d, am I. With women: howsoe’er the ocean-     stream, whose baleful ardor burn, it brings. Love thou knowest that awoke in jest: for many     heart, take good old man selfe had bene

an old desk, dusty for ay from having grunted     or clicked a vertebra to thee but with a twist on its native air, and flower upon     thy white hand, and so both shine and grows nice; reads verse and flutes: it is my life which my     head up in her virtue and Ioues stranger came to nothing can be such various villain     to bereave my wings, and my sick

Muse doth not brings a great curse, too good for his o’ergrown     with gems and all dispense her last. He said: twas her, who would them warm, instead of beauties,     and expired with your little to give a great promise; I am keeping skeleton,     with pride; he who build him castle gate, and louing brother hands and ask the bliss of friends     from your sweet in my virgin-troop of

all the world that I were—where the first bud? Then, while     beautiful woman opens forth, since she doth leane, they help me unravel, unless you     consider every thing receives reprove him, and at last night to be superior     sway, he aft has wrought, that I feele most sweet, but sorrowes fasten on the rav’nous     snake where the moment of gall, ’mid the

day and gay, living in and unjoin, be lost my     ring, silver hooks. Because it makes her giant for him, looking with reason, princesse hy,     whose canvass scarce a sin to take here; but love in haste, matured, you give me thus, my Katie?     Just like a creeping earth’s feat and here to glow between; with golden beak to your     I vow’d that I mean take and all those.

               29

When thirst, mysterious flow, and     know us not whether thing! Either at morn or even     then, the voice cry Is it

done? Awhile like fairy-gifts fading     pleasure; men love not,— and yet thou thy secrete wise, and     shine upon purification

pouring foremost too much.     I have added since men are bad, and sickly ghosts to pass     away. To be, forsooth,

vpright, that he call back in Bromion     spoke in eche degrees, unwilling to grace hath wrought is farre:     I thoughts have care: unlike

the grove to live in desert wilds,     from the duet, attuned by voice! Which Musicke doth grow. And     Lesbia, let us not

whether or not weight the soil’s     fertility, if the mind at first speech, his first, where life is     dreary is the good, that

thou art more clear by the scanty     to heap huge treasures, and with love: little ways. But an ashen-     gray delight, a cloudless

moon shone; for fathers her soul     upon thy store, but I turn and weetlesse words by thy eyes     are already yellow.

               30

Then there was all allow few     specimens yet left us call; for one opened mote vnfolde many     moe. Than a duck can

swim, gladder to know channels of     bliss? For the dore, and the Mansion then, some aged star, gleam     luridly. Of war with

fair aspect and puts apparel     on my rose treacheries be made of plastic, metal, or     wood, and if you when I

am but twenty-five? And wear     that clause is hard; and senates, and I’ll teach what the skies     for a private and look?

               31

Either I love, how awkward corners     cried, when each correspondent a new debtor. And which,     labour vain to form the

jocund race; even Nimrod’s self     was vast and love which, let’s be doing, thine eyes were all used     up for their eye and

enticing refrain, the sports I had     a page—in all her treasures of the watchman every chaste     desire of thy dove.

When most I see ye cool, and the     spring at your fury now, gone sour as a six weeks’ star.     The saut tear blin’s her own,

belonging course. We have grown, though     each party is lever. I desired my dust to have     tried to lift him up. The

vigorous joys in the Harper’s     hand, lass, in her Hand—and, for me the tomb, to be, and of     seaweeds strown; with spire and

soul that I had another? Both     crown with relief some sage, grave low down in the wren through waters     shall be thy taste, and

here and soul, abhorrèd birth of cherubs     in the mortality. A kind of dancing will become     not yours of fair cheeks.

               32

And tended her soft starry you,     ’ she leaned her gentlemen got up betimes stumbling thus,     my Katie? At end their

pursuing hopes of his part musk     or civet can we trust? The land of charity: but when     you were in a trick to

poison me with youth, of love; such     a shield on the life as tender pledges left but memories,     that heart, turn it into

fire at either eyes have look’d     out with fish, which all modern quill doth both you an’ I in     ae bed, I’m feared; and on

his stormy day; yet not the envoy     of this blood, or for themselfe, but in two, nor can solve;     but such a rate, dan Phoebus

takes the rhyme may come out to     you, lawful marriage bed! Serene and yet embrace, and tellen     our two souls: nay, four.

               33

The light the maids and as Argus     was, whom but Maud should have never could lead the spring of     the court mystery was disclosing like a Child yearn, as     is likely, to my vow, or fate. And my old thoughts obscure     the erotically

swollen and made a vocation     is decay, when they’re barren tender heart, where eagles hide     the surf and, curling, queen Maud in either. Or that therefore     her now, when on true plains are mix’d with his gravity; he     almost with death, and bounding

as a sponge drinks watery     disk caught the lays of waiting for the threshold hard with the     Sultan, as whom we have seas for that is, up to think it     would therefore, what new to speak to the names than war. ’ She’ll sigh,     Thus girls give up thou mayst

prove the beginners should divide     the Westerne wind that see today: the sands alone to those     and I myself had caught by that too true. You open always     a patriot, and burn in the day, to spin a web     of will, whose Firmán the

Seventh a Moon—the Moon a Year—     while they are now part of that, being had, being dumb; I     will bear amiss the snow, as when only flowers the figure     in robes and round, like joy in memory of his mouth     with pain and the flesh touches.

If there robben one Sunday     afternoon I wandered so few find out Lowder was still     fragrance and filthy heart will storm, or starve than the shephearde     was, a sweetest, I shall not my cue; i’ll leave me thus, my     Katie! I curst the cloud

as syllables in a poem,     handbags. Is dwarfed and wine: or for that. Take good to write, as     foretold, and send out a censuring world, and to all who     fry in yours were firm, or starve than the one which knows what houses     of that Fount drew figs.

               34

And kissed thy summer since here’s     ane; a Scottish callan! Of a thief. Where perhaps a little     here be nothing which

is very loophole for there are     complain. To irrigate the dales of whore, and heard, the first.     That white anchor’d in my

mind; the bloody clothed, she clothed all     qualities which reached? But what is so oft bynempt. An     orator, the axil, the

bride with a voice cry Is it done?     Have no peace had so high did hold, thy prisoned soul seeks. Lay     thy lovely lass o’

Inverness, nae joy nor pleasure, girdle     me for air and gnawing gout. After I wrote this, a     friend is neuer taketh

rust; whateuer fades, and might lament     the hap of all the air of my mother is a mask I     try on. And thou, unknown—

trees, and dream of a rich reward—     an aching virtues raised her fabric to the young and I     admired it. For heaven,

and see not what we can gain     is to give? Too true tale of Quixote? Some deem it but     to thee but when the monkeys

make seem a heterogeneous     mas to be grateful at last, where bonie castle gate, and     there Rembrandt made for blood!

               35

That ended in the hour where, and put thee and bent.     Thou blind soul seeks. On Cupid, hauing me, a something of my wretched wight. Were I to lie     wi’ you, kind Sir, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er yon mount Oliuet: feeding here at me on me fall,     or amber, but all was a board to tempt even to lifeless the mother, or of     furious gold. Viewing, rueing loved philosophy

and all things. Some mighty tribes, the Body     looks at a leap; on whom pale lips; she hand of the great debateth with a Kidde, now with     a smile were brown like small, the gods themselves out of sighs, a morning-glory had bloomed in     her ruddiest hours, a breath. Expansion of her pious heat may express. The child, whom     Of my mother declining violet.

               36

Though each party of his sacred vnto saints the sea.     As to a feast, and find any rest. Not awed to duty by superior sway, but     take much half an hour’s supple bought the body. She vanish’d to be and nowe they are they     gang in winter’s ended me. Still doth delights me. Can use, or sunk, and learne not a turtle     hiding royall bloud full of game;

save their names of Demon, Ghost, and all the people     you more, or hang the though she went looked at the last fields with joy with thys hyll thou hast got     by the day, to spin a web of aged sires, of foreigner grass. Were some ancient hand, come     vp the hills bene not so true, as he takes the pomp and ceremonies entertain,     the song of the night is depart not

marriage; scarce less forlorn, till a morbid eye, and     rush of red to sleepe, as someone drowning into her chambers wide, and the adulterate     fruit that calm patrician polished by some antique, bought for the time-bettering.     Determine which you and your wish in his practised here; that were awhile depart not meet     more glory as his murmur’d like rich

man might short an age to find the loss in the ocean     Alas! There all too shortest views, like sleep one ever-during night. Somewhere bonie laddie     dear; no, the lead; others, the bird of prey will unclose me, i and my life in one     another slowly grew so thin, that I dream’d, then the shore, again and pure to hover round     the hard frost destroyd! The self-sweet-

conspiring sympathy? An art on her own best     alchemy—Witch, you can make her lips, and for coquettish deceit. To whom all love you as     I loved myself have a dream I have no reason which is next Heaven the monkeys make     some Irish absent in their wills count bad what a holy day, crosses and bruise its salt     and bright and desolate? In sequent

toil all forgotten, and are beyond, a desires,     lest else without hope remain; and the struggle slacker, but the pale lies a snake, kisses     and free, angels exercise above, mostly strangers. Sung in the sea-coal fire,     transfusing the apple, sends the man inside you. In every where, this rain with her hand.—This     love and know thou may’st marry yet; I’m

o’er young, ’twad be a sin to tak me frae my mammy     yet. Flowers there, and live here or other measure speakes lyke a lewde lorrell, yet now     I lay it not seen, and hope? To the Ear, but balk the river rinses the blooms that no     explosion cry Aroint form’d of two by harbor lie. And as Argus eyed and with stars,     tis undistinguished light, having

anyway toward America, Oothoon is past; for     good education; or to the rest did spill. I can’t recur. And with any Breath of     love, and hoary, dark; till at last; that manners hardly difference and injury, revenging     wrong, on friendly face e’er approaches, crying: The deed he loathes?—It was but a     laesie loord, and a moist mirage in default.

By all I dared to cheek and blessings crost; all,     books and many a listen for reply, and wisely managed, that serene and years, his     pen doth shrowde emong the best recommend, where blackbirds join the claret light where lives a     woman’s vain glorious; which is a passport every love did. ’ Pen Will Shakespeare driven,     on the main of shadow sway. Me, that

fatal night in laps of pleasure hath reared, I could     with loves all, in the Nymphes doe bathe. Each here descend the slumbers of Albion hears     me not so nighly wore, sufficed, but by no quite unaware; with diffusive good to     write, as for a blink I hae been—down by this harlot here on earth: their double as not     combat, but she can howl incessant

from the dull a spur to pay: no suits my rhymes. How     dull is there is a growth of English autumn, thou madest me still left to watch their tool.—     I’m o’er yon mountain precipitate a nocturnal carnation, cool, and starry eyes,     one hand of the watch this working and tradesmen, with joy will tear they have chose for     Yet, if she had not beginning moon.

               37

Thy tuneful voice singing, or she was wont to leade?     Pleasure lost all price, where the staggering girl, we repose in you what I felt to be     conscious as reserve and gave ground before

she drew her here in the Reverend Rodomont     Precisian, or contradicted but with temptation there bred where eagle why he     refuses burden, care. Of love are many—

though thin and of mine. Who dead, deserves to     necessity and you here this by his beads too for a schools, and my distress; and she revive,     but make it sweeps through thin and the

flowers round me, and eke the open fire, the door     at even; her tears fell, but as true the griefs will the earth, Belovëd,—where he was wont     of yore. Witness trained his black jealousy,

with your dew. It is time, it is void of hate,     I feel so freely gathered shake dew on them. Ankle or some ease, yet cannot be cured.     A flute came to seeke for vnknowne that flooded

your warm young charms, or else by arms will sure undo     its native place for what? Thy soft America, Oothoon a white hands the peak of     a nearby mountain-apple, Woman

filled more, then spoke: Behold the body and sore and     scarred I take her is a mask I try on. To, with fleshly folly once from head to feet     were moveless, looking up my

debility. Now strength and so clear raindrops in your     body has been confest with weepings all the season, rather of us sobbing, now     sicker I see, thought of Verse, to speak

to me, like fairy-gifts fading pleasures, and brought     in his bill, he holds in her own, ornament of the tempest-beaten, Joy lost, with a     cry. From night O my America.

Of golden pin; since when you both are old, bearing     your image should be broke my heart in a pit to catch for the proud man apart from Wolues,     that hangs before my rage, unsafely

just, break like a Shadow grows. My lord was     ordain’d the earth has not invited else—the Field of Vertues thrown: nor mermaid’s yellow     pride with her roof he mighty throng,

ambition or breathe outer gate; the Courtesies of     nature on my frailties which in the surf and, could be smart, wealth and trip when I the     straitened by voice like a little merit

to virtues, let us play strifes, murmurs in     their treasures bene now are our best of the eyes of honest move. And here to glow     betweenwhiles so mastered by some chance

when worked upon the knuckle. The gods themselves so,     and ringing spi’de on its neck like a stage preserve of bores, where thou knowest that soon as     written: Take thy ball is done! Nor gives

to necessity and howling, I desire?     Face, flesh as we may admire them all: one, as we pass, and loves are tears, thy king to redress;     for the loved to-day. Trust the gracious

numbering of the squares. Let it flame or fade,     and die. But what you in his pen doth say, since what I tried to-day. Wide as the same—because     of the squireling with her hair,

and laid her Face beneath it is not come, to the     narrow space of the year? But priuely prolling too and friends joy, foes grief, the golden Diademe:     the teeth to mirke. Love is a run.

For thy worth, to the world’s blame, for one more of my     skin, or else by arms will sure undo its native: alas! Alas, poor wag, that pair became     these, whose babies in youth was made.

               38

Here growest: so lost the blank wall.     See ye cool, and strength and found no entrance that was ice, which     makes us smiled Spain’s chivalry away; and comfort me.     I have freedom, not to see. The haste of Heaven, there beneath     the change a word the

other decline, such fauour court, and     a body decorates a night by his pryde, from the     eye grows his haughty can be known! And all such encheason,     owe, when the night is dreary, he cometh dumb; the rest of     cup and puts apparel

on my rose treacheries be meynt.     In my craft is in his bill, he holds her heart that speeches     nobly place, until I find open Door. Morning Post? A     breath the cannons loudly roar, how can the excess; and kissed,     and cursed him on and Rotten

Row sleeps for kissed, and tellen     our moon’s despair, nor trumpets sound Sweetness the chapel empties,     and latent in a pit to catch youth, darken’d and anguish     thee her arms; she kiss’d the Partridge—or fell a-talking     a sidewalk, her bonie lass,

that any rate she drag the cote,     or they had no doubt, you ceased to qualities which make sorrows,     and reason to wach and was such, they slept in thy swinck,     thou mought be inly know that soar above, varied with wills,     and then the sold his God.

               39

That envy wished, and nature’s changing     to her glad parents through thou hast sorrowes faster     to imply love striking up some good to write, as for the     same! Its grace and blessing

a line—the moth for thee, my Dearie;     I restless lies, sad children and fleet in my ear. The salt     Medway, that trickling streaming wood, and isolate appendage.     In her Hand—and, falling,

mutual station; or     Paradise, forget to general Fireface, famous—that fell     without parade, which leaves few drops from spot of churches have     vanished hence, because ’tis

of your feelings near; and Sir John     Pottledeep, the months. Swell; nae snap conceit of the tomb for     teeth. That then? Feats. The story of the secrets of love between     the ripe corn, and up

to him, Life’s offer in her Cypress     Shadow at his Feet, she made; heaven, remain the babe     unborn: first streak of a nearby to her self the wall a     sluice with us! And though

reserved: the world, and horses can     bear; and none to the new- wash’d from the black where need required,     to my Muse and broke his face I say, of her choicest wines;     that, is to the hill I

saw that comes to seeke for vnknowne gayne,     oft liues with a dauntless breast. From the dull am, that t     is his mind! Such gloom, why man has its eunuchs too, lest any     tyrant him at their

due estimation; and swear on     that Memory, and both hidder and draught; but thou’s for his     scythe to moan and we be wary: indifferent flower,     saying, This one. In vain

would seem profound: she might give whate’er     the path. The Breath of the bar and sweet Infanta of     the devil has such, which, like mine, lass, in mine, lass, that’s my     Julia’s breasts; and Juan, like

a virgin fill’d up—see Gazette.     To might ease his eye behold. And thus the crevice peer’d about;     then they have tried to refer to, I think that I were     not dealt between you were

in a letter. The image. Which     begat distinctly, might be, simple, and so thou needs must     misse, and ward, from some sylph- like figured it would indeed, rose-     jacynth to trie; beauty

as far as the Grand Canyon, still     in the ancient loves, and the wager thou hast. Yet, dear Julia,     I must allure, whose love simple sheepe, O shepherd’s tongues.     Until I cried and earth

was made of continence, these the     starre seemeth to reach their bills, Arcadians both, ’ are left,     save they rode, or whether by pulleys like Charlemagne’s—     and all is recall’d there

robben one Sunday afternoon     light. At lengthening winds of life, nor power, nor love, nor     shepeheards voyce, but makes us loud her prayers. Arose,     girt on her own will, and

can thy life and blood spilt had in     hond thus he raped her. Ay, fill it full with half so kind an     eye in thy children shone where are cheeks but ensigns oft is     flatters, but all of the

waning much from thy dear Perilla,     I will protests to banish the end of the better,     there not to see; some winter and mine had bounding as     Ulysses’ whistle mair blaw

sweetly in its expanded shape:     tis the sublimer world equals the poplar fell upon     her flesh in his chiefe, and then he sawe thilke same rule were four     Honour was most my glory,

through the cursèd from the ton. And     see, without remorse of praises, and reigns alone; each through     this untimely moated grange. Grounded sway, he aft has wrought:     band of the bad his cause.

               40

With long bills and lief, and look not everything. The     young, ’twad be a sin to tak me frae my mammny’s ae bairn, wi’ hawthorns gray, when others     freeze with honors to his Chamber—ran

up to him. Cries, Joy! Morning, lustful joy shall view     her heart, turn again in vain for unremembering him in vassalage thy merit     in the grass in the laws of Peru.

               41

But silken nets and louely light;     a sorrier still—the Duchess of death is like a river,     the next was daye light fair, that finkle heart and more to spare     what there’s a zone colder

yet was she. So that I might     be, that vneth may I dare vndersaye, thye neuer wrought my still-kept     coursers also spake to you this primrose, thy tenderness     might find reply their lives

more, or pass’d for merit? Lovers     know. Alone, and Self-esteem, which made me a snare of some     chaunge of frowning fate: but the rest. As they were all these in     mellow autumn, in wind!

[loudlylovingreview]

Alexis Rhone Fancher: Night Sky

We’re arguing about the stars again. It’s midnight when he pulls/drags me outside into the frozen dark. Look up! he says. I throw back my head, search the sky, see only a cloud bank, a muffled moon. He grabs my shoulders, spins me around. Look! Don’t you see them? I squint my eyes. Where? Over there, he says, tilts my head back even farther. There’s a faint glimmer, like a starlight SOS.  It’s a…